


blame

by Alley_Walk (AlleyWalk_writes), AlleyWalk_writes, Tod der Fata Morgana (AlleyWalk_writes)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: AU after Timothy Arc, Akuma Allen AU, Allen Walker and Timothy Hearst are little shits, Allen Walker is like Kaneki Ken, Allen spreading his dubiously helpful life advice to impressionable children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Crossdresser Timothy Hearst, Dubious Morality, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kid Fic, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resurrection, Sort Of, Timothy & Allen-centric, Trans Allen Walker, Violence, and everyone is gay, like off the rails AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-10-11 04:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/AlleyWalk_writes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Tod%20der%20Fata%20Morgana
Summary: "Tyki blinks. “So what you’re saying is… you kidnapped him.”“I did notkidnaphim!” Allen splutters.“Yeah,” Timothy nods, then says with a grin, “it was amutualkidnapping.”Allen elbows him in the side with a frown. “Nothelping.” He hisses, and Timothy laughs."Or, Allen is an Akuma that has avoided the Order until now, Timothy is stubborn and traumatized, Kanda's grief drives him on a dubious quest for revenge, though the Black Order's secrets might just bury him first, and the Noah are just along for the ride.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, ya'll!
> 
> This is a new fic of mine that hope you all will like!
> 
> The timeline is a bit different than in canon for a very specific reason, but you'll find out more about that later.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for heavy suicidal thoughts/ideation, violence, gore, and character death.
> 
> If you can get through all that, enjoy! ^^

**night one • savior**

* * *

Timothy Hearst stares at the smoking ruins of the orphanage, his home, his _ family_, tears running down his face. Everyone had been taking shelter inside the orphanage when, with a flick of its fingers, the winged Akuma had set off a deafening blast that brought the whole building down on top of them. The streets are broken and abused from the Akuma’s blasts, buildings across the street completely decimated, terrified screams filling the air.

Timothy’s tears roll off of his face before dripping onto the asphalt.

Then he hears the crunch of a footstep. He looks up, and his heart freezes in his chest. 

There stands the winged Akuma, looking a little battered but otherwise none the worse for wear._ “Get up, Young Master!” _ Tsukikami urges him, trying to get him to his feet. 

Timothy shrugs him off, looking the Akuma dead in the eye. 

The Akuma cocks its head, oddly curious. **“Why aren’t you running away? It would be the sensible thing to do.” **

“Shoot, then.” Timothy says, and he blinks, bringing up his arm to wipe away the tears. “It’s my fault, anyway.”

_ “Don’t be stupid! Get up and run!” _

The Akuma nods, its face taking on a haunted and hungry cast to it. **“If you say so.”** It agrees. The Akuma lifts its arms towards him, its hands transforming into guns. 

Timothy closes his eyes.

_ Emilia, Matron, everyone. I’ll see you soon. _

The gunfire explodes in Timothy’s ears, but the bullets never land. 

Timothy opens his eyes.

He expects one of the Exorcists to have messed up once again (because they didn’t protect the orphanage like they were supposed to and they weren’t supposed to save Timothy), so what he sees startles him. A furry white dragon-like creature stands before him, baring its rather impressive fangs at the Akuma threateningly. It has a long, serpentine neck with ears like a wolf’s and horns like a gazel’s. The strip of deep golden scaling on its side slopes downward onto its six legs–three on each side–and travels all the way down to the tip of its long, serpentine tail. Its paws have odd, four digit fingers that press against the ground like a hand. Its white wings have blond flight feathers and are folded against its back, its eyes, one blue and one red, focused solely on the Akuma in front of it.

The winged Akuma sighs, scowling at the dragon. **“You ruined my meal. If you’re hungry, go find something else to feed on. I’m not really the sharing type.”**

**“Oh, believe me, I will.” **The dragon-like Akuma says determinedly. 

Timothy’s heart drops like a stone, and he searches around wildly for the Exorcists that are probably still alive out there somewhere. Though he’s only mildly concerned.

Yeah.

Mildly.

That Asian swordsman is half collapsed against the side of a ruined bakery, using his sword to struggle to his feet with his _ arm half blown off _, his eyes fixed on Timothy. A pile of dust with discarded black clothing lay in the streets, a soft green light glowing from within the dust. Timothy feels sick. 

_ “Young Master, we can use our power to stop the Akuma from hurting him.” _ Tsukikami says. 

“Really?” Timothy asks. 

Here Tsukikami looks dubious._ “Well… maybe?” _ They say doubtfully.

“_Why_ is that a _question_?!” Timothy hisses.

Tsukikami strokes their chin as if they were a wise old man with a beard._ “Well, I really have no idea what level that Akuma is. It’s really annoying.” _ They say with a scowl. 

Their hushed debate comes to an end when the fluffy white Akuma pounces on the winged Akuma, pinning it to the ground with its superior weight. Timothy covers his ears as the winged Akuma opens its mouth to let out one of its piercing screams. But the dragon Akuma’s head darts in, its fangs closing around the other Akuma’s mouth, neck and jaw. It rips the flesh free, swallowing as black blood streams down its maw and bubbles up from the winged Akuma’s throat. Hooked claws dig into the winged Akuma’s arms and legs, ripping them apart in a spray of blood. The winged Akuma leans forward and lets out a gurgling screech right in the dragon Akuma’s ears. The white Akuma’s grip loosens, obviously disoriented. The winged Akuma slips free, darting desperately away, only for the dragon Akuma to leap on top of its back. The dragon Akuma rips into the other Akuma’s back, tearing at its flesh until its jaws clamp around something, the winged Akuma stilling underneath it. The dragon Akuma throws its head back and gulps down its prize. 

It has to be the most captivating and terrifying thing Timothy has ever seen, like a sort of morbid fascination for all things deadly. And now he’s just waiting to be next. 

The dragon Akuma twists its serpentine neck around to look at him, its ears perked and its head cocked in an almost wolf-like manner that would definitely be cute if Timothy wasn’t so terrified. 

_ “Young Master, we should-” _

**“Are you alright?”** The Akuma asks. There’s genuine concern in its voice, but it’s probably just buttering him up for when it can finally eat him.

Tsukikami frowns.

And Timothy

Timothy laughs.

“No, I’m not alright. Everyone I knew and everyone I loved is dead, and…” Timothy swallows the words down. His chest aches like there’s a hole where his heart used to be. He thinks of Emilia, hugging him goodbye, and he swallows down a sob, standing and meeting the Akuma’s eyes. “Just kill me already, would you?”

The Akuma licks its chops, and then approaches Timothy. It curves its long serpentine neck down to Timothy’s height and presses its whiskery muzzle against his chest. It’s surprisingly warm. The Akuma meets his eyes. There’s something almost steely and determined in its gaze.** “Is that really what your family would have wanted for you?”** It asks.

Anger flares inside Timothy. “Who do you think you are to ask me that?!” He yells, bonking the stupid dragon on the nose. 

_ How would I know? _

The dragon pulls back a little, meeting his eyes.** “Don’t stop. Keep Walking. Because as long as you remember who they were and what they meant to you, they’ll always be with you.”**

Timothy scoffs. What kind of advice is that? They can't be with him if they're dead.

But at the same time... 

It might be nice, to try to believe that. 

"Whatever." Timothy says. He scowls up at the dragon. 

Now what?

* * *

The small boy scowls and looks up at Allen stubbornly. He has brown eyes and aqua blue hair tied into two pigtails, and he looks so small and so fragile that Allen feels he has to be extra careful around him so as not to hurt him. His eyes shine with resolve when he asks, “I don't want to go with them. Will you take me with you?” 

Allen is lost beyond words. For all the things a human child to say to him, asking to go with him was never one of his expected responses. He recovers quickly, though. He assumes that the reason Timothy wants to go with him is because of the Black Order, and while Allen doesn't disapprove of everything they do, this particular venture grates on his nerves.

Start off slowly.

Allen cocks his head.** “What's your name?”**

The boy frowns, a shadow passing over his face. “Timothy. Timothy... Hearst.”

**“I'm Allen.” **Allen's tail lashes in displeasure. **"Timothy, are you sure you want to go with me?"**

Timothy huffs indignantly. "Of course I am!"

Allen's ears perk. **"Well, alright."** He leans down to let Timothy climb up his shoulder when a stab of liquid fire courses through his flank, and Allen roars in pain.

“He’s not going anywhere.” A male voice says, twisting the Anti-Akuma weapon before yanking it out of Allen with a spray of Akuma oil. Then Timothy collapses bonelessly to the ground.

**“Timothy!”** Allen darts his head forward, snuffling for injuries. He nudges him, a distressed whine emerging from his throat when he doesn’t respond.

“It’s nice to see you so concerned.” The male Exorcist teases, and Allen whips around with a snarl on his face only to see him wearing the type of shit-eating grin that only a child could possess.

**“Timothy?”** He asks, unsure. This could be a trick.

Timothy looks at him seriously out of the body of a grown man. “Take my body and run. I’ll catch up. And, um…” Here’s where he shows his true age, fidgeting with nerves, “can you promise not to eat me while I’m gone?”

Allen laughs. **“I promise.”** He reassures, nudging the boy’s cheek.

He picks up Timothy’s body with his front paws, holding him securely to his chest as he unfurls his wings and takes off into the sky. 

* * *

Timothy comes back to his body to find it surprisingly uneaten. He finds himself pressed securely against Allen’s chest, his fur soft against Timothy’s face. Timothy honestly hadn’t known what to expect when he agreed to go with Allen. But there had been something about the way the Akuma had saved him, something about the way he had asked him what he wanted to do instead of telling him what he should do, that made Timothy want to trust him. That made him think that, somehow, this Akuma was different than the others.

And, in Timothy's opinion, anything was better than having his choices made for him.

Timothy shivers as the air knifes through his thin clothing, burying himself into Allen’s fur. **“Are you cold, Timothy?”** Allen asks, concerned.

"I’m fine.” Timothy says stubbornly. He shivers again.

Allen swoops in for a landing, and Timothy can only be selfishly grateful. 

Allen lands in an alleyway that barely fits him. Then his body morphs and changes, and a boy that couldn’t be a year older than Timothy stands before him. He has long white hair pulled back in a ponytail, one blue and one red eye, with deep brown skin and an angled scar down the left side of his face.

Timothy points accusingly. “Hey, you’re only a kid!”

Allen sighs. “I’m sixteen, actually. Akuma’s human forms just don’t age.” 

Timothy crosses his arms with a shit-eating grin. “Suuure they don’t.” He teases.

Allen laughs, flicking him on the forehead. “Come on, let’s go get you some clothes.” 

Timothy frowns. “How do you plan on managing that?” It’s not like two kids wandering around France were particularly inconspicuous. As for money, Timothy could resort to stealing again, but then Allen would be alone with his prone body while that was happening, and while he hasn’t eaten him yet, Timothy would like some solid evidence that the _ yet _ will be a definite _ never _ before he decides to stick around.

Allen smiles secretively. “Take my hand.” Timothy takes the proffered hand, Allen holding his hand gently as if he might break. Allen walks confidently out of the alleyway with Timothy at his heels. They turn onto the streets of downtown, the abused wooden and cobbled sidewalk beneath their feet groaning with the use of the evening commuters going home after earning their daily francs. Horse’s hooves clomp down on the mismatched streets as carriages roll past; it had rained recently, so the smell wasn’t as bad as it could have been. 

Everyone around them seemingly ignores them, so Timothy starts looking through shop windows for a clothing store. He sees a few, but he finally finds one that he likes called, “Macy’s.” He’s hesitant to pick it out at first, because he’s not sure the clothes he wants are clothes matron would approve of.

But Allen catches him looking and they go right inside. 

There’s one that immediately catches his eye as they enter the store. It’s a deep red dress with white leaf designs at one shoulder and one hip. Embarrassed, he turns away and tries to find something else. He sees a couple spaghetti strap shirts that he likes, a couple more dresses, jeans, and even some skirts. By the end of looking through the store all he has is a pink coat which he couldn’t stop himself from getting, thoroughly frustrated with himself. What’s wrong with him?

It’s true that he’s never gotten to pick out his own clothes before, but this is ridiculous.

And all throughout it Allen refused to let go of his fucking hand. Timothy scowls, frustrated, and yanks his hand out of Allen’s. Allen’s eyes widen in alarm as a woman walks past, looking at the two of them with concern. He quickly places a hand on Timothy’s shoulder, and the woman blinks, before going on her way.

Timothy frowns, shrugging Allen’s hand off of his shoulder and eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you up to?” 

Allen sighs, slipping his hand through Timothy’s again, much to his annoyance. Allen smiles in apology. “I suppose I should have explained. My Akuma Ability is called Stealth. It allows me to move unseen and unheard and, so long as you’re still touching me, allows you to do the same as well.” 

Timothy squints his eyes suspiciously. “Aren’t Akuma powers supposed to have _ negative _ effects on people?” Whispering aside to Tsukikami, “they are, aren’t they?”

_ “Yes, Master. I would advise not letting it touch you.” _ They say, eyes narrowed at Allen. Timothy quickly yanks his hand out of his.

Allen glares right a Tsukikami. “You’re really not being helpful right now.”

Both Timothy and Tsukikami freeze in place. “You can see him?” Timothy asks, gawking.

Allen sighs, impatient. “Yes, I can see him. Now come on, we’re going to get caught!”

“Caught doing what, exactly?” A paunchy adult looms above them, hands on her hips, wearing what looks suspiciously like a security guard’s uniform. Her eyes are narrowed suspiciously. 

Allen fumbles for a second. “Caught… um, admiring your beauty! You look really nice today, and have you lost weight?”

The security guard shoots him an unimpressed look. She starts speaking into her radio, and Allen and Timothy meet each other’s eyes. “Run?”

Allen nods. “Run.”

They turn as one and make a break for the entrance. The security guard yells after them, her feet pounding behind them in pursuit. Only Timothy looks over and Allen's not beside him anymore. _ He left. He left me. _ Timothy's eyes sting with betrayal, and he speeds up, bursting through the entrance of the store and ducking into an alleyway.

His lungs gasping for air, Timothy's heart pounds like a drum inside his chest as he strains his ears for sounds of pursuit. "There you are," Allen says from where he's suddenly beside him. "I was getting worried."

"No, you weren't." Timothy blinks back tears. "You left me. I…" _ I should have never trusted you. _

_ "Come, Young Master. I'm sure there's a way to contact the Exorcists somehow." _ Tsukikami comforts. Timothy steps away reluctantly, looking back with longing.

Allen blinks rapidly. He can't be crying, can he? Akuma don't cry, do they?

"I'm sorry for leaving." Allen says with an apologetic smile, his eyes sad. "I only wanted to grab your things on the way out." Allen offers a bag with the Macy's logo on the sides, and against his better judgement Timothy steps forward to look inside. Rifling through, he finds everything in the store that he had liked or that had caught his eye. He feels embarrassed and grateful all at once.

_ He didn't leave. He didn't leave. _

Timothy turns away with bag in hand, turning his nose up in the air. "Well, you still shouldn't have left."

"I'll try to take you with me next time." Allen says, amused.

Timothy nods, taking Allen's hand in his.

“Next time.”

* * *

Timothy has long fallen asleep by the time they make it to their destination, warm and snug in his new coat while curled up in Allen's arms. But Allen had been far from alone. Tsukikami had been alternating between ignoring Allen and annoying him, seeming to enjoy that they could get actual responses out of him. Right now they seem to be at the "annoy" end of the spectrum. 

_ “So who are you really? 'Allen’s father or something?” _ Tsukikami asks from where they’re laying sprawled out against Allen’s back.

**“Excuse me?”** Allen flaps his wings once in agitation before spreading them to their full length, the wind cupped beneath his wings keeping them aloft. The distant lights of the buildings below them shine in the darkness of the night, the summer breeze playing across Allen’s fur. 

Tsukikami glances over at him nervously, and then seems to remember Timothy. _ “...Nothing. Nevermind.” _

Allen’s heart hurts, but he swallows it down. 

Allen changes the subject, and they arrive at their destination: a small flat on the outskirts of a small town in France. It had been mere luck that Allen had been flying by at the time of the attack on Timothy’s home; they had just gotten into town last night and Allen had decided to go exploring. He had gotten thoroughly lost and was just on his way back home when he smelled smoke and had decided to investigate.

Allen carefully sets Timothy down and steps back. His body morphs and flows, a human body forming fully clothed while he pulls his Akuma form back into himself. Allen sighs in relief, and for a moment he and Tsukikami just stare at each other. _ “Just so you know, I’m keeping an eye on you.” _ The spirit says, and Allen nods, heaving Timothy over his shoulder and walking into the flat.

* * *

Allen finds Tyki in the kitchen, making dinner for himself, Wisely, and Toraido. While Allen isn’t eager to tell him about Timothy because he’s sure he’ll be teased for it, Timothy needs food just like any other human. “Hey, Tyki,” Allen says with a smile, leaning against the counter from where Tyki is boiling the pasta. It smells awful, but probably not to Tyki’s nose.

Tyki sighs, looking over at him with amused resignation. “What could you have possibly done now, boy? You were only gone for a few hours.” Tyki’s brown eyes have a teasing slant to them, his long mussed up black hair tied into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He has deep brown skin, a contrast to the grey of his Noah form, which makes it easier to convince people they’re related.

Allen huffs, crossing his arms. “How do you know I’ve done anything at all?”

Tyki laughs, smiling fondly. “Because I know you. Now what have you done this time?”

Allen sighs, hating how much he has to crane his neck to look up at Tyki’s face. “We have a guest. You’re probably going to need to make an extra batch of pasta or two.”

“That seems a bit much for a guest this small.” Wisely opines from the living room.

Tyki lifts an eyebrow as he starts in on the sauce. Allen can already see where he’s fudged up the recipe, and his eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “You haven’t brought in another stray cat, have you boy?”

“Try a stray boy.” Wisely says, walking into the kitchen with Timothy suspended in the air held within the folds of his scarf. Wisely has white hair similar to Allen’s own that goes about half way down his neck, black eyes with a perpetual scarf that covers the three eyes on his forehead.

“Hey let me go, you jerk!” Timothy yells, kicking and struggling, before his body finally slumps and Wisely staggers back, his scarf letting go of Timothy’s body, which hits the floor with a thump. Timothy’s whole body jerks, and then he curls up as if in pain, his nose gushing blood. Wisely rubs his forehead, wincing.

“And an Innocence Accommodator as well. You really know how to pick ‘em.” This directed at Allen.

Timothy sits up and crosses his arms across his chest, and Allen gets a handkerchief and hands it to him so he can wipe his nose. Allen can smell that it’s stopped bleeding, and why it bled at all probably has to do more with Wisely than with Timothy himself. “I never wanted to be like this!” Timothy exclaims. “I just…” Timothy blinks back tears and takes a deep breath, and Allen sits next to him on the floor. Not touching. Just… there.

Allen looks up at Tyki and Wisely. Toraido is lurking by the pantry, silently eating a pack of saltines, but Allen chooses to ignore him until he decides to make himself known. “That’s why he’s here. Because he didn’t want to go with The Black Order. So I brought him here.”

Tyki blinks. “So what you’re saying is… you kidnapped him.”

“I did not _ kidnap _ him!” Allen splutters. 

“Yeah,” Timothy nods, then says with a grin, “it was a _ mutual _ kidnapping.”

Allen elbows him in the side with a frown. _ “Not _ helping.” He hisses, and Timothy laughs.

Toraido steps out of the shadows, making Timothy jump. He has short messy dark hair with one strand dyed a red the color of fine wine, his piercing green eyes examining Timothy with interest. He cocks his head in an almost bird-like manner. “Why did you want to leave with Allen instead of go with them?” Toraido asks in a manner that might be called curious if Allen couldn’t see Judgement’s smiling face reflected on the glass doorknobs, on the tiles on the wall.

Every monster in the room holds their breath, waiting for Timothy’s answer. For Toraido’s Judgement to fall. Timothy squirms under all of the (most likely unwanted) attention. “The Black Order is the reason my family is dead. And Allen…” Timothy’s eyes dart over to him for a second, and he looks away as if embarrassed. “He saved my life. It seemed like the right choice then, and I haven’t regretted it since.” He says, and Allen glances at Timothy, a small smile on his face.

He knew that part wasn’t completely true, but still… 

Allen snaps back to their current dilemma when Toraido places a hand on his chin. He finally nods with a pleased look. “This seems fair to me.” 

Everyone in the room but Timothy lets out a collective sigh of relief. It’s not often that Toraido feels the need to Judge someone, but when he does, there tends to be dire consequences when they’re Judged to be in the wrong.

“Even with the kidnapping…?” Tyki starts.

“Tyki, your pasta is burning.” Wisely says, and Tyki turns with a curse.

Toraido and Wisely both look at him expectantly, and Allen sighs. “I’m on it.”

Why the _ Akuma _ had to be the best cook in the house, Allen didn’t know.

He couldn’t even properly taste any of the food… 

* * *

Kanda Yuu wakes up in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his middle with Mugen leaning against his bedside. He can immediately tell that it’s a regular hospital and not the one at the Order; this one smells too clean, too sterile, and there are no beds beside his own.

Well. Fuck. 

How the hell did he get here?

He runs back through the memories that he can recall. Getting beaten down by that Level Four. Losing Marie… Stabbing the Level Two that had been about to take Timothy away, and then… nothing. And now, here he was in the hospital, having been treated without his knowledge.

Kanda snorts.

Whatever that kid thought was going to happen when that Akuma took him away didn’t matter. He was long dead now.

And Marie is dead on top of that.

Lenalee was never going to forgive him.

Unplugging both his heart monitor and his IV drip, he takes off all of the wires and removes the IV. Kanda winces slightly as he stands up. His wounds are still bothering him; he couldn’t have been out for long. He sheathes Mugen at his waist; he’s going to have a hard time hiding that for this plan to work.

Opening the door to his room, he stalks on silent feet down the hallway, ducking into a room when a nurse walks past. When he sees a nurse in scrubs that’s about his height, Kanda grins.

* * *

Now donned in scrubs with his sword strapped awkwardly to his back, Kanda goes to take a ‘lunch break,’ and strides with no resistance out of the front doors. Kanda gets on a private train car through a little coercion, as he doesn’t have his Exorcist coat to get the privilege that way. Luckily, Mugen can do most of the talking for him.

Kanda leans back in his seat, scratching at his itchy scrubs. He sighs and taps at his ear piece twice, the signal to connect him directly to Komui.

_ “Kanda? Are you and Marie okay?” _ Lenalee’s voice asks.

_ “Lenalee, maybe you should go.” _ Komui suggests.

_ “I’m not leaving! I have a right to know what’s happening just as much as you do!” _ Lenalee outbursts.

Komui sighs. _ “Okay. You can stay.” _ There’s the sound of shuffling as Lenalee presumably shifts into a chair.

_ “How are you and Marie? You're both safe, aren't you?” _ Komui asks, a thread of tension in his voice. As if he already knew the answer.

Kanda pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighs. “Marie is dead.” A battered and bloodstained body held upside down by chains clinking in the wind. Eyes meeting his in sorrow and acceptance, a hand over his stomach where the Akuma bullet had hit, Kanda watching as his body turned to ash.

There’s a lump in Kanda’s throat and he swallows hard, digging his fingers into his scalp until it’s painful to ground himself in reality.

Lenalee is crying silently over the line, Komui whispering quiet reassurances. Lenalee takes a deep breath, seeming to pull herself together. She’s strong like that._ “How-how did he die?” _ She asks, her voice a bit wobbly.

Kanda swallows. “An Akuma bullet right to the stomach.” Kanda runs his hand over his ponytail in a soothing gesture. He takes a deep breath. “It was a Level Four.” Kanda had been surprised to encounter one. The last time he had seen one was when he had gone to retrieve Tiedoll, so he had naturally assumed that they were rare and only used for important events.

Apparently that assumption had been wrong.

He hears Lenalee’s indrawn breath. _ “Kanda, are you-?” _

“I’m fine. I managed to make it to a hospital.” Because of that brat. “I’m currently en route back to base.” 

Komui sighs. _"Kanda, why don't we start at the beginning? The last time you reported in, you said that... that Marie had tracked a crying voice back to its source.__” _

Kanda nods, though they can’t see it. “The place the accommodator was staying turned out to be an orphanage.” Kanda hesitates. “He was nine years old.” 

He hears Lenalee abruptly stop breathing, but Komui says, _ “please, continue.” _

“We were arguing when the first blast hit. Marie and I went to go check it out while the civilians and Timothy hid in the basement. There was a Level Four outside, which is what we focused our attacks on. I only have a vague idea of what happened to Timothy. He was suddenly just outside the orphanage, collapsed. A Level Two was beaten to bits while a second one was dissolving into white light.”

_ “You think it might have to do with his ability to possess humans?” _ Komui asks excitedly. _ “Possessing Akuma.... that would be a rare and valuable ability.” _

“Yes,” Kanda agrees. If the kid wasn’t dead. “But then the Level four levelled the orphanage to the ground. Marie died soon after that.” Kanda has to pause to swallow the nausea creeping up his throat before he can continue. “There were no survivors.” While he may not care, he knows everyone else will.

_ “How did you destroy the Level Four?” _ Komui asks.

Something dark and ugly rises up from within Kanda, and he laughs. It’s not a happy laugh. “I didn’t.”

There’s silence over the line and then Komui says,_ “I'm sorry?”_

"I wasn't the one who destroyed the Akuma." Kanda says, the words tasting like acid on his tongue.

_"Kanda, if you didn't destroy it, then who did?"_ Lenalee asks, confused.

“An Akuma. It just... showed up and beat the shit out of the other Akuma. I'm pretty sure it was for the purposes of cannibalizing. And then... it took the kid. And he went willingly.”

Because even an Akuma was better than where he was headed.

Fuck. He needs to calm down. He needs to relax before he destroys this whole fucking train.

_ “What do you mean, Kanda? That he went willingly?” _ Lenalee asks, stress in her voice.

Kanda sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t think I actually went to the hospital willingly, did you?”

There’s a pause as the two over the line make the connection. _ “Oh…” _ Lenalee says sadly.

_ “I see. Well, we will prepare the funeral rites and wait upon your return.” _

“Alright.” Kanda agrees, not really listening.

He drops the connection with an irritated sigh, poisonous emotions still writhing beneath his skin. Taking a deep breath, he relaxes into the lotus position. With his first teachings on meditation, General Tiedoll had suggested that Kanda focus on one image that relaxed and calmed him.

His usual image–Marie–isn’t working at the moment. He tries the lotus flowers he had used as a child, but those just bring up unpleasant memories best left forgotten. Lenalee just makes him think of how upset he's made her, and Lavi is annoying on principle. His mind settles into an eerie calm when he hooks onto a memory from just hours previous. The white and gold dragon-like Akuma, looking down at Timothy with hungry eyes.

_ I will find you. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanda makes a decision.
> 
> Lenalee is worried, and Komui is tired.
> 
> Timothy gets a haircut, is hesitant in his new fashion sense, and learns some things which only lead to more questions.
> 
> Allen is supportive and nervous in equal measures, and angst and fluff are abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all.
> 
> I actually wasn't planning on updating this until I had a one chapter buffer, but my dog just died because she was suffering from terminal cancer, so, I felt like updating to cheer myself up.
> 
> Comments, please?
> 
> They'd really make my day.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this one are some light vomiting, (though it's not very descriptive), and discrimination against a child exploring his femmself, (because, you know, Timothy, and an Orhanage run by Catholic nuns... *cringe*)
> 
> Also, while I did do some research about what it's like and what it feels like to be a crossdresser, I really know a lot more about transgender issues and gay rights, so I'm sorry if anything is inaccurate in any way or comes off as more trans than crossdressing in Timothy's POV, though I'll keep up the reasearching and try my best.

**night two • building bridges**

* * *

Kanda stands as still and unmoving as stone at the side of the two black and white coffins before him, Lavi standing on his left, Lenalee standing on his right. Tears stream down Lenalee’s face but she doesn’t seem to notice, eyes fixed on the coffins, not really seeing them. Komui’s hand rests on her shoulder. Lavi is dry eyed and grim, his lips pressed into a thin line with Bookman beside him. Tiedoll is grave and for once, silent. 

A foul wind had been blowing in Paris by the time they got to the site of Marie’s death, so the only thing they could recover of his body had been his boots and his Exorcist coat.

All of this grief, just because of one stupid coat.

A coat that Marie had lived, fought, and died in.

A coat that was the symbol of everything Kanda hated about this world.

Something ugly rises within Kanda’s chest, and he turns on his heel and shoves his way through the crowd of mourners.

It doesn’t matter.

This funeral was a sham, anyway.

If they really cared they wouldn’t have made them fight in the first place.

The Exorcists were just puppets, Central pulling their strings.

And Kanda thought it was about time he stopped being a puppet and became his own puppet master.

* * *

"You really have _ no idea _ where he is?" Komui asks exasperatedly.

"No. I'm sorry, brother." And Lenalee _ is _ sorry, because it's true that she doesn't know where he is. _ However, _ she did happen to see Kanda leaving headquarters last night with a packed bag that implied a long and arduous trip, and when she asked him where he was going, he said cryptically, "to find something."

Komui sighs long sufferingly. "That's too bad. We had a mission lined up for him tomorrow."

"I can go," Lenalee volunteers. As much as she hates going on missions, she feels an obligation to cover for Kanda until he can come back from whatever it is he’s doing. 

Komui frowns. "I guess that’s fine," he says, though he doesn't look pleased at the thought. "You'll be going with Lavi. I can tell you the specifics tomorrow."

Lenalee frowns. "But the mission is scheduled for today."

Komui nods, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Yes, well. Some things have been rescheduled, especially since Kanda went missing.”

Lenalee's grip on the arm of the chair tightens. "There's going to be a meeting?"

Komui nods. "Yes. They want all Exorcists on base, just… just in case of a repeat performance." He says, his eyes pained.

Lenalee swallows hard. "Oh." She says quietly.

_ Kanda, please come home soon. _

* * *

Timothy wakes up in warmth and darkness. He yawns, rubbing his eyes, and then rolls over and gets a face full of fur. He opens his eyes, annoyed. Did one of Emilia’s cats sneak into the boy’s dorm again? He runs his hands through the fur, one hand sliding over smooth scales, the animal’s hide rippling under Timothy’s hands. Timothy soon realizes that this is no cat. And that’s when he comes crashing back to reality.

The attack.

The orphanage.

His home.

His _ family. _

Anger bubbles up in Timothy’s throat, threatening to choke him. He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to turn back the clock and frame that Exorcist for every crime he’s ever committed instead of taking him to the hospital like Matron would have wanted. 

He ends up crying as silently as he can into the mattress, shaking with too many emotions to describe. His chest aches with something far past physical pain, and he curls up around it, leaning against the warmth of Allen’s side and hoping against hope that he’s still asleep. But then the thing blocking the light overhead moves, ruffling and then clapping itself against Allen’s body. 

Timothy blinks at the sudden light, looking around warily. He had been so tired last night that he had barely taken in his surroundings, practically inhaling his food before near falling asleep at the table. He remembers Allen forcing him to brush his teeth before leading him to a room where he had promptly passed out. Which had been stupid of him. No matter how much he might want to trust Allen and somehow already does, at least to the point where he’s _ pretty _ sure he’s not going to get eaten any time soon, he's in a house full of strangers that might not have his best interests at heart. 

Timothy sniffles, rubbing at his eyes, and he _ can't stop crying. _ Soon Allen's body shifts until Allen is looking down at him, his large body curled around him. Allen cocks his head, leans down and licks his face. "Ew, gross!" Timothy says, leaning away, but he can't help the weak smile that crosses his face. Allen leans closer, something about his expression almost mischievous, and then he's holding him between two front paws and thoroughly grooming his hair. Timothy can't help his laughter as he tries to fend him off with his hands. "Hey! What am I, dinner?"

Allen pulls back and cocks his head, looking at him in a considering way. Timothy's heart drops like a stone.** "No. You’re too stringy."** Allen says, and Timothy can see the teasing glint in his eyes now, and Timothy starts laughing. He really shouldn't be laughing, because there really is nothing funny about this situation he's stuck in, but. The laughing turns to crying, which turns to hiccups, and Allen lets him go and lays his head down as Timothy cries against him with hands buried in his fur.

After the tears stop flowing and Timothy can get a handle on himself, he suddenly notices the uncomfortable hunger gnawing at his stomach. Timothy sniffles, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “Do you got any food?” He asks sheepishly, feeling embarrassed at his breakdown.

Allen is quick to shift back into his human form, hair now loose and wearing a navy blue single breasted waistcoat with a white dress shirt underneath and black dress pants. It makes Timothy feel severely underdressed in his hand-me-down clothes from the orphanage, ripped and dirt-stained from the attack on the orphanage yesterday. 

Timothy suddenly, desperately wants to be out of these clothes. He wants them gone. Not burned or destroyed, just… somewhere he doesn’t have to look at them or know they’re there.

It's not like he wants to just forget them.

He just really doesn't want to think about it right now, when he's feeling _ good _ , when he's feeling _ fine _.

Sighing, Timothy gives the room a quick once over. The room he and Allen had slept in might be called a sitting room or a bedroom depending on who you asked. Numerous mattresses are spread all over the floor, with blankets and pillows piled haphazardly on top. It is really comfy for something that basically amounts to a giant cat bed, and it makes Timothy wonder if Allen sleeps in Akuma form all the time. There’s a small table sitting in a corner, overturned mugs and discarded dishes covered in grime. Light filters in from a dirty window overhead, dust particles floating in the air. 

There are also a lot of discarded objects in the room. Timothy squints. There are several bladed and probably deadly weapons leaning against the far wall, they’re not dirty like everything else so Timothy assumes that they’re well taken care of; he’s not an expert on weapons and the keeping of them. There are playing cards scattered on the floor, as if a game had been in play before being interrupted. What really catches Timothy’s eye is a glass globe on the floor with a black and purple butterfly inside. He looks around for Allen to see him sitting on the floor, running a whetstone over an elaborate golden dagger. Timothy looks back to the globe.

One peek couldn’t hurt.

Timothy finds that the globe isn’t made out of glass like he thought it was but instead is made out of water. He pokes his finger in the water experimentally, and looks on curiously as the butterfly flutters closer to reach his fingertip. “Don’t touch that!” Allen yells, and Timothy yanks his finger out of the water, looking at Allen in confusion.

“Why? It’s just a stupid butterfly.” Timothy says sulkily, though inwardly he thinks the butterfly looks really cool, the impossible globe of water only improving its coolness factor.

Allen sighs in relief, his dagger nowhere to be seen. He picks up the orb of water with the globe suspended in the air above his hand. “Not him,” he chides the butterfly, and its wings droop in something that can only be called disappointment. He turns to Timothy, his dual colored eyes concerned. “Timothy, some of the things in this house are very dangerous. I know you’re curious, but please ask me before touching anything, okay?”

Timothy scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I’m just supposed to ask permission before doing anything at all?”

Allen frowns. “No, of course not. However I expect you to ask me about something that might seem dangerous, or at least odd,” he smiles wryly, “such as an unusual butterfly in a globe of water.”

Timothy frowns, and then nods. That’s fair.

Allen smiles. “Now come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

Timothy glances down at himself and wrinkles his nose at the smell. “Do you think I could get a shower first?”

* * *

After his shower, Timothy looks into his bag of clothes with interest. Allen had thought of everything. He had even gotten him underwear. Timothy slips on the boxers and then pauses, staring at himself in the mirror. He taps the hated glass ball that's made its home in his forehead with a grimace, the round aqua blue gem glimmering in the lamplight.

_ (-”but you can still wash your face, right?” _

_ “Yeah, so?”) _

_ “Then it doesn’t matter, does it?”-) _

Timothy shakes his head to clear it, wiping the wetness from his eyes. 

Matron… Matron had told him that. But did that even matter, when she was dead? Even after she had said that, Timothy has always kept it covered with a headband, so maybe he felt a _ little _ self-conscious about it. But with Matron gone, those words aren’t as comforting as they used to be. He can feel the discomfort, staring at his own image. “Hey Allen?” Timothy asks through the door, though he’s not sure if he can even hear him. He probably went to make himself breakfast already.

“Yes?” Allen replies from the other side of the door, startling him.

“Are you any good at cutting people's hair?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Allen says, “I’m passable. Hold on while I go fetch a pair of scissors.”

The ball in Timothy’s forehead suddenly glows, and Tsukikami materializes beside him. _ “Young Master…” _ They chide.

Timothy scowls at them. “Look, I don’t care what you think about Allen. He’s my friend, not yours. That means I get to make decisions about whether I spend time with him or not, not you.”

_ “I’m only worried for your safety!” _ Tsukikami says anxiously. Their eyes narrow. _ “I don’t trust it, and you shouldn’t either. With the way Akuma are made, you really have no idea who you’re talking to. You could be talking to that child’s father for all you know. Not to mention…” _ They scowl. _ “He’s stolen that deceased Exorcist’s Innocence.” _

“Allen wouldn’t do that!” Timothy exclaims, outraged.

_ “You think I can’t sense the Innocence he’s carrying? Go ahead and ask him. See what he says.” _ Tsukikami dares him angrily. With a flash of light they disappear.

Timothy huffs angrily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

_ How Akuma are made…? _

There’s a knock on the door. “May I come in?” Allen asks.

“Door’s open.” Timothy answers, a little nervously. Should he ask? He doesn’t want to accuse Allen of anything. But he is curious about how an Akuma is made. 

“So how do you want your hair to be cut?” Allen asks, and Timothy is pulled out of his thoughts to remember the reason Allen is here in the first place.

“I want bangs.” Timothy says, tracing a path along his forehead that’s below the ball in his forehead yet above his eyebrows. “And my hair to be trimmed a little.” He adds, just so it doesn’t sound like it’s all about the bangs.

Allen nods. “Do you want layering?” He asks.

Timothy looks at him, confused. “What the heck is layering?”

Allen looks thoughtful. “Humm… Well, it basically makes the hair look longer, and… fluffier?” He rubs the back of his neck with the hand not holding the scissors sheepishly. “Sorry, that’s the only way I know how to describe it. You can look at mine if you want to see how it'll look.”

Timothy tilts his head to get a better look. Yeah, that does look good. If he could describe it, he'd say it looked thick and feathery. Timothy nods, and Allen smiles at him. “Okay, hold on a sec.” Allen puts the scissors down on the sink/counter and leaves the bathroom, the door hanging wide open. He comes back a minute or two later carrying a chair in his arms with relative ease, setting it down gently on the floor. Timothy eyes the chair suspiciously. It looks relatively cleaner than the chairs that had been in Allen’s room, so Timothy reluctantly sits.

Allen cuts his bangs first, Timothy staring at his reflection with a frown. The bangs are a little spiky just like the rest of Timothy's hair, sweeping across his forehead in a style that would be similar to Allen's if it wasn't so tufted. Timothy's not sure if he likes them or not, but they do cover the ball on his forehead just as well as his old headband did. Allen gets started on the rest of his hair, the feeling of a comb through his hair and the snip of scissors in his ears. Once the scissors are away from his face, Timothy has the courage to ask. “Allen, how are Akuma made?”

Allen goes still, pausing in the midst of cutting Timothy’s hair as the strands fall from between his fingertips. Timothy immediately knows he's made a mistake. How could he not have? Allen _ is _ an Akuma. Whatever the experience was, he's been through hell just by becoming one.

Timothy twists around to look at him. "I'm sorry," guilt hooks its claws inside Timothy at Allen's pained expression, however Allen just sighs and runs a gloved hand soothingly through his hair. Small bits of hair fall from his head and onto his bare shoulders, making his skin itch. But he leans into the touch instead of pulling away. He's not mad, at least, not yet. 

Allen smiles, though his eyes are sad. "It's alright. I suppose I should have told you this sooner, so you never make the same mistake that I made."

Timothy frowns. "Mistake?"

Allen sighs, still running his fingers through Timothy’s hair. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. An Akuma is made up of three things. A soul, grief, and a contract.”

Timothy swallows hard, his heart feeling heavy as stone. He really doesn’t like the sound of this.

Allen's fingers are still running gently through his hair, and Timothy abruptly wonders if it's more to soothe Allen than Timothy. “When an Akuma is made, it’s because a loved one has died and you can’t… can’t move past their death. So a man named the Millenium Earl appears before you, and offers to bring your loved one back to life.”

Hope sparks in Timothy’s chest at the thought. But then he remembers how this story ends, and the hope sputters and dies, leaving an empty feeling in Timothy’s chest.

Allen squeezes Timothy’s shoulder reassuringly, as if he had guessed Timothy’s thoughts. “The Earl brings forth an Akuma skeleton, which he promises will bring your loved one back to life if only you call their name.” Allen laughs, and it’s not a happy laugh. “And the sad part is that it works, and for a few precious seconds, you feel happy. Like you finally got them back.” Allen takes a deep breath. “And then, the Earl orders the Akuma to kill their loved one and wear their skin.”

Timothy’s stomach roils. He bolts off of the chair and over to the toilet, and Allen is just quick enough to hold his hair back before he’s puking up the dinner from last night. He squints into the bowl. “That pasta still looks burned.” He accuses weakly, and Allen laughs.

* * *

They decide to save the rest of the discussion for when Timothy’s hair is finished being cut. Timothy is actually sort of dreading the rest of the discussion, because he’s pretty sure most of it boils down to who Allen really is. What if he’s an old man? What if he’s really a girl? He could handle if he was really a girl, but the old man thing would just be… creepy.

Allen finishes cutting Timothy’s hair and Timothy hops in the shower in order to wash his hair again and get all the loose pieces of hair out. He uses a shampoo/conditioner that’s simply labelled “Apple Cider,” despite the weird bottle that it comes in, because he likes the smell.

He slips on the same pair of boxers again–he wasn't wearing them for that long, jeez–and then looks down into the bag of clothes that Allen had gotten him. Allen had gotten him all sorts of clothes, not just girly ones. There were also some boy clothes and some clothes that might be called, “adrodgendous.” Timothy bites his lip nervously. While he had felt very underdressed compared to Allen, and he feels almost… excited about these new clothes, something is stopping him. 

It’s like he can feel Matron’s eyes boring into the back of his skull, thoroughly disapproving of his actions. Sister Jeanne had once caught Timothy trying on Nicole’s clothes. He had asked first of course, and by the time Sister Jeanne showed up he and all the girls had been putting on a miniature fashion show up and down the hallways between the dorms, the boys down the hall calling out their favorites or rather unhelpful advice about how to, “strut it like you mean it, Timothy!” 

Sister Jeanne had not been pleased, and had told Timothy in a judgemental voice that boys do not wear girl’s clothing. It simply wasn’t done, and he should be ashamed of himself. That familiar shame bubbles up in Timothy’s chest as he looks down at the clothes in the bag. He almost feels like just throwing the boy’s clothes on and calling it a day.

But there’s a longing in Timothy’s chest as he looks into the bag. He’s never been completely happy with the clothes he usually wears. He always found himself jealous of what the girls were wearing, wondering if he could ever be that pretty. He feels like there’s something missing. Like there’s a new him, a different him, just waiting to burst free if only he would let it. He remembers how Allen had bought the clothes for him, without question. There was no judgement in his eyes when he had handed the bag over, only the anxious hopefulness of anyone handing over a gift and hoping the receiver will like it.

And… Sister Jeanne isn’t here anymore. None of the Sisters are. None of their judgemental looks or silent stares, prickling into the back of Timothy’s neck until he just hid in Matron’s office, but even she sometimes sent him looks that Timothy could only interpret as disappointed.

Timothy takes a deep breath.

But they’re not here anymore.

Allen is.

He blinks back tears and opens the bag.

* * *

Allen stirs the scrambled eggs, placing the cheese slices on top and stirring it all together. The bacon’s all done, left out on the stove, and if only Tyki would stop stealing pieces before the food is ready then there might be some left for everyone else. “Toraido, can you manage the toast? This is almost ready.” 

Toraido blinks sleepy eyes at him. He shrugs. “Sure.” He gets up off the kitchen table and moves to the toaster, and a few minutes later, the eggs are done.

Once the table is set with everyone sitting down and eating with abandon–there aren't many formalities in the Kamelot/Walker household, though Wisely might have said "Grace!" before diving into the food–Allen cooks extra helpings for Timothy, enough to feed at least four boys his age. (Which is mostly just a guesstimation on Allen’s part).

Allen settles down at the table himself, though there’s nothing but water for him. Wisely looks across the table at him, taking a long sip of apple juice and then scooping up a forkful of eggs with his scarf. “So, you told Timothy the story of how Akuma are made. Are you going to tell him the rest of the story?”

Toraido blinks sleepily, slightly more awake after his third cup of coffee. Tyki chokes on his toast, coughing as he desperately pours a glass of orange juice and washes it down, his eyes watering. He shoots Wisely a venomous glare. Wisely only smirks. 

Allen feels a flash of annoyance at Wisely’s obvious prying into his business, then feeling even more annoyed because Wisely can probably sense his annoyance. He takes a sip of water, closing his eyes in enjoyment. He takes a deep breath. “Yes, I am.” Allen tells them determinedly.

Toraido shrugs, making a grab for Tyki’s mug of coffee. Tyki swats his hand away, clutching the mug possessively to his chest. “Well, if he hasn’t been scared away yet, he probably won’t be scared away by the rest of it.” Toraido says.

“Such faith you have in me.” Allen deadpans with a smile. Toraido’s lips twitch slightly, and he puts a warm hand on Allen’s forearm. The anxious knot in Allen’s stomach loosens a little. 

“If he freaks out and tries to run, I’ll help you bury the body.” Tyki offers. Then he looks thoughtful. “Unless you’d prefer to eat the body, of course.”

Allen frowns at him. _ “No one _ is killing or eating Timothy.”

Wisely cocks his head, his smile teasing. “What about what happened in Puebla?”

“What happens in Puebla stays in Puebla, Wisely.” Allen says with a smirk.

The conversation comes to a halt as every monster in the room picks up the sound of hesitant footsteps coming down the hall. Allen doesn’t want Timothy to think that they stopped talking because of him, so he starts badgering Tyki about getting a job. It’s a relatively safe topic for a human to overhear. 

Timothy walks into the kitchen, looking a bit self-conscious but also rather pleased. He’s wearing a pink and white tank top and grey leggings with black flowery designs blooming on the sides. Over all, he looks a lot happier than when Allen saw him last. Allen’s already planning another outing to go buy him some nailpolish, though makeup is definitely out for his age, and Allen would like him to be older before he makes the decision to pierce his ears. 

Allen smiles gently. “You look very nice, Timothy.”

Timothy blushes with pleasure, before he scoffs. "Yeah, right." Despite this, a small smile graces his face.

Allen gets up from the table to show him where the plates and silverware are, pouring him a large cup of apple juice much to the boy's evident delight. Timothy scoops most of everything Allen had made for him onto his plate, seeming to have to restrain himself from eating at maximum speed as soon as he's sat down.

Allen sits next to him, waiting and dreading.

Tyki's and Wisely's gazes are settled on Timothy in something that might be called interest or curiosity, if they weren't so intent. Toraido's mostly awake by now due to the now copious amounts of coffee he has consumed, and has just taken an overly loud bite of Wisely's toast. Wisely doesn't bat an eye, but Allen knows there will be vengeance later.

Timothy squirms uncomfortably under their gazes, shovelling more food into his mouth defensively. Allen shoots them a sharp look, and the tension in the room eases. Tyki and Wisely relax into their human guises instead of the predators they really were. 

"So, introduce us to your new friend, boy." Tyki starts.

"It's Timothy," Timothy snaps, "and I can introduce myself just fine."

“Touchy, are we?” Tyki teases, and Timothy fumes.

“So what do you think?” Wisely interrupts, and Timothy turns to him with a baffled look on his face. “About Allen being an Akuma.” Wisely clarifies, and Timothy drops his fork on the floor in surprise.

“Here, I’ll get it,” Allen offers, ducking under the table before Wisely can object. He’s desperate to escape this conversation. Picking up the fork off of the floor, he pops up from beneath the table and puts it in the sink, grabbing Timothy another fork and handing it to him as he reseats himself next to him.

Unfortunately, the conversation had not gone on without him, Timothy remaining stubbornly silent. “C’mon, you have to have some thoughts on the matter.” Wisely needles, and Allen glares at him. Wisely already knows those thoughts, so why does he need to bring them out into the open? 

Timothy’s anxious eyes flick to Allen, asking silently. Allen smiles reassuringly. In the end, he trusts Timothy. Timothy swallows, his eyes darting around the table. Allen places a reassuring hand on his arm, and Timothy takes a deep breath before letting it out. He smiles devilishly. “Well, I’m mostly concerned with who he is.” He scratches the back of his head with his free hand and shrugs. “I mean, if he were really a girl that’d be alright, but an old man would just be creepy.” He says with a shudder.

Tyki’s shoulders shake before he bursts into laughter, not seeming to be able to help himself. A self-satisfied smile blooms on Wisely’s face, and he leans back with a pleased expression on his face. Toraido lets out a huff that might be called laughter, his lips slightly upturned.

Allen feels relief course through his veins as he relaxes back in his chair, hope blooming in his chest.

However, Timothy isn’t laughing.

“Stop laughing at me!” He yells, slamming the end of his butterknife into the tabletop. The butterknife drives through the wood and sticks there, and Timothy gapes. Allen suppresses a smile. Their Clan has grown in numbers, making each member stronger than before. Allen… should probably talk to Timothy about that at some point. 

Tyki snorts one last time, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’m sorry, boy. But the way you put it was just so…”

“Different,” Toraido says with a nod.

“Non-horrifying,” Wisely elaborates with a bright smile.

“We just couldn’t help ourselves!” Tyki exclaims. He smiles at Timothy, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

It was rather less terrified and judgemental than Allen was used to. Not that Allen blamed them for judging him. 

(<strike> He was a monster, after all. </strike>)

_ Should I tell him? _ Allen wonders. _ I… I want to. I want him to understand. But what if he doesn’t? _ Allen takes a deep breath to calm the erratic pulsing of his core. _ Well, either way, I have to try. _

Allen smiles at Timothy, even as he removes his hand from his arm and clasps his hands in front of him instead. His core yearns for him to place his hand back on Timothy’s arm, to make sure he stays, that he won’t leave; Allen clasps his hands together tighter even as Tyki looks at him with worry. He bumps his leg against Allen’s in reassurance, and Allen lets out the breath he’d been holding, relaxing his grip on his hands slowly.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that with me. I’m exactly who I say I am.” Allen says, looking into Timothy’s eyes. Timothy’s brow furrows, and through his bangs there’s a faint blue glow, before Tsukikami appears beside him. Allen’s not exactly sure how he feels about the spirit. While it’s a good thing that Timothy has friends outside of Allen, he can’t help but feel that the spirit is trying to turn Timothy against him. 

“Who’s that?” Tyki asks, pointing a fork rather rudely a Tsukikami. Wisely has a rather puzzled look on his face, squinting and turning his head sideways as if that will make the person whose thoughts he is most likely sensing magically appear. Toraido just looks confused. 

Tsukikami turns angry and exasperated eyes on Allen. _ “They can see me too? What are you, a family of psychics?!”_

Tyki looks contemplative. “Well, we might as well be.” He says, amused. 

Tsukikami makes a noise like a strangled cat.

“Everyone, this is Tsukikami. Tsukikami, this is Tyki, Wisely, and Toraido.”

Tyki cocks his head. “Just what are you, exactly?”

Timothy crosses his arms over his chest with a smug smile on his face. “He’s my very own Innocence guide. Cool, huh?” He brags.

Allen smiles at him. “Yes, that is cool. However, I fear we’ve strayed from the point.”

Tsukikami scoffs, crossing their arms over their chest. “_And what point is that, exactly? You already told him how Akuma were made, so how can what you just said possibly be true?”_

Allen glares at them, a snarl going unuttered at the back of his throat. “Maybe if you listen you’ll find out.” Allen growls.

He takes a deep breath to get a hold of himself. He hesitates, then he begins. “When I was about ten, I lost someone very dear to me. He meant the world to me, and I couldn’t live without him.” He says, and he’s glad when his voice doesn’t break. He feels a warm hand wrapping around his own, and he blinks. Timothy is clasping their hands together, his face flushed and blinking back tears. 

Tyki is looking at him, his eyes sad. Wisely’s face is grave. Toraido is mostly expressionless, but there’s something… tired about his gaze.

Even Tsukikami is gravely silent.

Allen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “The Earl came, and I said yes. And then…” He stops, swallows hard. He turns and meets Timothy’s eyes. “And then my left arm activated.” 

Allen swears that for a moment Timothy stops breathing. “W-What?” He chokes out.

Allen lets go of Timothy’s hand for a moment, slipping off his left glove to show Timothy the cross on his hand, glowing a bright Innocence green. Timothy gapes at it for a solid five seconds, and then seems to become interested in Allen’s fingers. They’re red and segmented at the place where they bend, the fingernails black and a bit sharp. Timothy pushes up Allen’s sleeve, exploring the smoothness of Allen’s arm that Wisely had once compared rather unfavorably to the carapace of a bug.

Allen pulls away after a few seconds, bad memories rising to the surface, putting his hackles up. His lips twitch, and he has to resist the urge to bare his teeth threateningly. He pushes his sleeve back down and pulls his glove back over his hand, his veneer of humanity falling back into place.

Tsukikami looks stunned.

“My left arm activated, and destroyed Mana.” Allen swallows around the lump in his throat, an echo of the terror and hopelessness he had felt that day making his breath shake. “But the Earl didn’t leave.” Allen takes in a deep breath that he hopes doesn’t shake, and continues, “he couldn’t use Mana’s soul to turn me into an Akuma, because I had purified it already. So he took my soul out of my body and attached it to another Akuma skeleton.” 

Timothy looks horrified at the inevitable though of what happens next, so Allen decides to distract him. “After that, there was a man who modified me. He gave me human reasoning, reasoning that other Akuma don’t have. The choice of who to kill, and who not to kill.” Allen takes a deep breath. “And I chose not to kill humans.”

Timothy frowns. “But don’t you gotta… like…” He makes a squishing motion with his hands complete with sound effects, and Allen almost laughs at Tsukikami’s aghast expression.

“Akuma,” Allen explains.

“You’re a cannibal?!” Timothy exclaims, wide eyed.

Allen shrugs. “It was the only other option.”

Timothy frowns, and he seems like he has something to say to that when Wisely interrupts. “Not that this isn’t interesting, but we are on a tight schedule.”

Allen frowns at him. “We are?”

Wisely nods, leaning back in his seat. “We have yet to find any decent jobs in this town. With that in mind, and the fact that we now have Timothy with us, we thought it best to leave for greener pastures. So, I’ve looked around for potential jobs and found some good options in a remote town in Canada.” 

Allen knows that Wisely’s definition of “looking around,” was to open up his mind to the thoughts of every person in the world and see what he found. No wonder he’d been getting so many headaches lately. Timothy looks confused at this, however, and Allen resigns himself to the fact that if anyone was going to explain anything to Timothy, it was probably him.

Allen crosses his arms. “And why didn’t you inform me of this?”

Tyki shrugs. “You were busy.”

That, while true, doesn’t stop Allen from feeling peeved off about this.

“Well, we should start packing.” Toraido suggests.

And Allen sighs.

He hates packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually supposed to be a lot more Black Order-centric, but I got distracted by the fluff and the fact that there really were some things that needed to be revealed in the story.
> 
> I can promise that the next chapter will be a lot more Order-centric, though. Specifically Kanda-centric, Komui-centric, and Lenalee and Lavi-centric. So you get a bit of everyone, I guess. 
> 
> Timothy: Hey, what about me?!
> 
> Author: Don't worry, you'll be there. *evil laughter*
> 
> Timothy: *side eyes her* No, I don't think so!
> 
> Author: Timothy, what are you... no, wai-!
> 
> Timothy The Author: Ha, I'm the author now!
> 
> Timothy The Author: Hmm, leaving my body there probably isn't good for it.
> 
> Tsukikami: Don't worry, I've got it handled.
> 
> Timothy The Author: Ugh... I don't feel so good...
> 
> Tsukikami: Young Master??
> 
> Timothy The Author: Huh. Suddenly I feel like I'm God and that everyone in the world are just play things that I can do whatever I want with... 
> 
> Tsukikami: (Shit. He's gone mad with power.)
> 
> So you next chapter, everyone! 
> 
> Comment and kudos or be erased from this plane of existence!
> 
> (Also, in case anyone was wondering, this isn't Tsukikami bashing. I see Tsukikami as a slightly older and wiser version of Timothy, but also a version who happens to be Innocence. What that means is that they'll have a natural distrust and aversion to an Akuma like Allen that Timothy won't have because, 1) Allen saved his life, 2) he's had some positive experiences with him now, and 3) he's not old enough to suspect that Allen might have ulterior motives. (Like ransom, or some such).)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanda's search bears fruit of a baffling nature.
> 
> A second meeting is held, with ominous tidings in store for the Exorcists.
> 
> Lenalee and Lavi are sent on a mission, and Timothy hates boat travel.
> 
> He really, really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all!
> 
> I really meant to post this sooner, but our chihuahua Sophy got a protruding disk in her neck and we had to rush her to the hospital. Still not sure if she needs surgery or not. Well, we'll see.
> 
> No trigger warnings other than light vomiting and mention of the ocean, as well as Leverrier's everything.

**night three • starting point**

* * *

Kanda Yuu stalks down the creaky wooden and cobblestone sidewalk beneath his feet, angry beyond words and feeling like he could scream with frustration.

Ten days.

He’d left the Order ten days ago, and there were still no leads on that fucking Akuma.

He hadn’t expected it to be easy, especially since most people who saw an Akuma didn’t live to tell the tale. But the Akuma had given a name. Allen Walker. It had probably thought that Kanda wasn’t close enough to hear, but Kanda had sharp ears, and that name had been seared into his brain from the moment it had appeared and taken Timothy away.

“I still can’t believe that blue haired kid robbed the store while I wasn’t looking,” a woman sitting on a bench says as Kanda’s passing by. On a second pass over her she seems both homeless and to have recently lost a lot of weight. 

Kanda approaches her, his eyes narrowed. “What blue haired kid?”

The woman perks up, and then rattles the tin can full of meager coins she's holding rather pointedly. Kanda drops a couple silver francs into the can and repeats impatiently, “what blue haired kid?”

The homeless woman shrugs. “I dunno. I was working the day shift as a security guard at a clothing store when I saw these two kids arguing about getting caught. When I asked them what it was all about–" she makes a motion with her hands, "–pshoo! Gone." Her face turns sour. “Only somehow they robbed the store when I wasn’t looking. And letting a couple’a kids rob a _ clothing store _ does shit all for your reputation. So… here I am.” She says with a shrug.

Kanda frowns thoughtfully. If one of the kids had the possibility of being Timothy, then the other kid might be… 

“And the other kid?” Kanda asks. The brown haired woman shakes the can with an unimpressed look.

Kanda drops another two silvers into the can, and when that gets no response he places a hand on Mugen’s hilt, drawing it out of its sheath slightly so she can get a good look at the curved edge of the blade.

The homeless woman smiles in a friendly way and inches a bit further back away from Kanda on the bench. She frowns thoughtfully. “Well, that kid was actually what got me suspicious of them in the first place. There’s been some rumors of some rather odd people moving into town, and trust me, this kid looked the part. He had white hair like an old man and a weird scar over the left side of his face, with mismatched eyes, one blue and one red with black sclera. ” She shivers. “That’s just creepy, if you ask me.”

Kanda frowns. That would be almost the exact same description of the Akuma in human form, which just doesn’t make sense. The woman could be lying to him. Unless she was an Akuma, he just couldn’t see a motive. But what motive would an Akuma have, either? Other than to get him off their own trail? He eyes the woman assessingly. But she hasn’t attacked him yet, even with his Exorcist coat in plain sight.

Kanda sighs.

He can only conclude that either the woman is mistaken, or that there’s something much bigger going on than he first thought.

He turns away from the homeless woman and starts to walk away. “Wait!” She calls. 

Kanda huffs impatiently, turning to look back and glaring at her. “What?” He snaps. 

She looks at him, undaunted. “Wouldn’t you like to know about the odd people who just moved into town? It could be related.” She baits.

Kanda sighs impatiently. It could be nothing. But then, it never hurts to check.

* * *

Kanda walks up to the door to the flat at the edge of the town, the distant city noises the only sound to an area that seems shrouded in silence. It puts Kanda instantly on guard, something about the place eerie and unsettling like the feeling of a cold finger trailing a path down his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Some people might consider knocking. Kanda doesn’t bother. He kicks the door in, the wood giving easily beneath his foot as the door swings inward on broken hinges. He strides into the room and curses. 

The room before him must have been a sitting room of some sort. He can tell because of the scuff marks on the floor where the table legs have been moved and collections of dust bunnies that must have been under the furniture at some point. Kanda searches through all of the rooms and goes through the whole house looking for anything of use. But it’s been completely cleared out.

Kanda scowls in frustration and is about to call it a day when he sees something out of the corner of his eye.

A large blond feather. 

He can’t mistake it for anything else. Picking it up, he examines it. The feather is soft, and as long as his arm. It’s probably a flight feather. Too short to be a primary or secondary, from what he remembers.

He sighs. The Akuma was definitely here.

But what did that mean for Timothy?

Glancing around with his eyes narrowed, Kanda closes and locks the door to the room. It won’t stop anyone determined to get in, but it’s his only option right now. Placing his hand on Mugen’s hilt for reassurance, Kanda holds the feather in one hand as he sits on the floor, settling into the lotus position and closing his eyes.

His breathing slows, his posture relaxing as he reaches a calm state of mind. But instead of focusing his attention inward, he looks outside of himself. And _ sees _.

Around him the room is bathed in multi-colored light. It takes him a second to filter through the various colors and bring them into focus. The first aura he sees is the largest one in the room. It's blood red with hints of black, which Kanda finds fitting for an Akuma's soul. The second aura in the room is an aqua blue, much smaller than the Akuma's and about the size of a child's. 

Kanda isn’t as good at recognizing or remembering people’s auras unless they’re familiar to him, though it’s easier inside the meditative state. He’s not sure yet, but he thinks this aura might be Timothy’s.

Examining the aura closer, Kanda’s own aura twitches as the remnants of an active Innocence echo across his soul. Well that was definite proof. But why keep Timothy alive? What did the Akuma have to gain? He passes over the echo of Timothy’s aura again. There! Inside his aura, swirling colors of red and black are forming, bonds of friendship and trust holding them in place.

That’s impossible. Akuma aren’t friendly. Akuma are vicious, bloodthirsty monsters whose bloodlust causes them to kill any human within sight. He must be being tricked, somehow.

Kanda still turns his inner eye back to the echo of the Akuma’s aura, to prove himself right and to further assess the situation. The Akuma’s soul is steeped in Dark Matter, and judging by how huge its soul is, the Akuma is most likely considerably powerful too. Which doesn’t make sense. He’d expect power of this magnitude from a Level Three or Four, but the Akuma he’d seen had been Level Two at best. But that makes even less sense, because then how had it defeated the Level Four? And so easily at that? Vicious yet precise, as if it had done the same thing a million times before.

His inner eye lands on something within the Akuma’s soul and freezes. The auras around him flicker in and out of view as his meditative state destabilizes, leaving the darkness behind his eyelids as the space in between. He takes deep breaths in order to calm himself, but his mind is in turmoil, his hand wrapped around Mugen’s hilt in a vice grip.

He opens his eyes to the physical plane, with no auras around him. He puts his head in his hands.

_ I can’t have just seen that. _ He thinks. _ It’s impossible. It’s… _

His brow furrowed.

An aqua blue bond anchored firmly inside a red and black aura, cemented together with ties of friendship and protectiveness as solid and unyielding as steel.

_ I could have been hallucinating _ , Kanda thinks grimly. _ But if I wasn’t… then the only other option is that it’s real. That it’s the truth. _

The katana sheathed at Kanda’s waist suddenly seems heavier than before, in weight and in meaning. He lays a hand on the hilt for reassurance, but the feeling that settles over him feels less like reassurance and more like a sickness in his gut.

He shakes his head and gets up, walking out of the house.

He has a letter to write.

* * *

Komui sighs, desperately wishing for a cup of coffee as he leans back as much as he can in the uncomfortable straight-backed chair. He swears these things were made to be as uncomfortable as possible, likely as some underhanded revenge against the Black Order higher-ups. He sits in a meeting room filled with all of the main players of the Black Order, from Generals to Branch Heads, all gathered around a large mahogany table. The room’s decor is a bore, all blacks except for the white ceiling above.

The Branch Heads are currently bickering about what Komui has come to call, “The Kanda Problem.” After five days with no return after Lenalee had come back from her mission, she had confessed to him what she had seen of Kanda’s departure. And while it didn’t sound like anything treacherous to Komui, he wasn’t about to tell anyone what Lenalee had seen. With the way things were going, most of the people here would likely twist the story to suit their own views.

After ten days with no sign of Kanda, another meeting had been called to decide what had to be done. There were a lot of conflicting views, however.

“He has disobeyed-”

“-he’s from the Second Exorcist Project-”

“-one of our most powerful Exorcists!”

“Kanda Yuu is a traitor.” A sharp voice cuts through the rabble, and the whole room goes quiet. Malcolm C. Leverrier’s eyes are set in dangerous slits, and his words have an edge to them when he speaks. “He should be considered a rogue Exorcist from here on.”

"That's a little harsh, even from you." Cross Marian says, feet kicked up on the table.

Leverrier’s eyes narrow. “Oh? And why is that?”

Cross shrugs. “So he’s on his little miny side quest. The kid’s grieving. Let him come back when he’s ready.”

“Like we let you come back when _ you _ were ready?” Leverrier challenges.

“People with General status are different-” Komui starts.

“Exactly. And Kanda Yuu is anything but a General.” Leverrier says with satisfaction, and Komui’s heart sinks. Almost everyone around the table is nodding in agreement, and Komui can’t help but think he just signed the warrant for Kanda’s capture himself.

Leverrier smiles, sickly sweet to cover up the poison underneath. “Good. Now that that’s settled, there are going to be some changes around here…” 

* * *

Lavi grumbles to himself as he walks down the hallway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The old panda just _ had _ to wake him up at ass o’clock in the morning, which was totally unfair considering the old man had been working him like a slave driver over some old documents nearly all of last night.

But missions don’t wait on sleep. As much as Lavi would like them to.

Yawning, Lavi nearly bumps into someone before they both stop in their tracks. His face splits into a smile when recognizes her. “Hey, Lena!”

Lenalee smiles. “Hey, Lavi. How have you been doing?”

Lavi grins. “I’ve been fine.” Jeez, she worries too much. “So, are you heading to see Komui?”

Some of the light in Lenalee’s eyes dims. She nods. “I’ve been assigned a mission.” She looks at him worriedly. “Not you too, Lavi?”

Lavi nods. “Yeah.” He smiles and tries to be optimistic. “But at least we’ll be doing it together.”

Lenalee nods, her smile returning. “Yeah. Together.”

They walk into Komui’s office together, each taking a seat on the worn leather couch. A few minutes later, Miranda comes in and sits between them, a nervous smile on her face. Komui has been sitting behind his desk, half dozing, but upon Miranda’s arrival he rises to his feet.

“Okay, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started.” Komui says with a smile that spoke of long hours running on nothing but caffeine. Lavi scooched back a little bit further into the couch and away from Komui. A Komui who ran on nothing but caffeine was much more likely to start on unwanted experiments than one without.

“There have been reports of talking animals in certain areas,” Komui starts, and wait, what?

Lavi crosses his arms and gives Komui a skeptical look. “Animals can’t talk. They don’t have the right vocal chords to be capable of it.” 

Komui nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I admit I was skeptical at first, but the reports don’t lie.”

Lavi frowns inwardly. There were probably only a few eye-witness reports, though it made him wonder if the Finders had investigated. Maybe something hallucinogenic in the water supply? Outwardly, Lavi grins. “We’ll see.”

Komui nods, then opens the world map hanging on the wall and points to a place on the map. Lavi squints. Was that…?

“You’ll be heading to The Valley of The Ten Peaks, Canada. To get there, you’ll need to take a couple of trains, and then book passage on a boat to cross the North Atlantic Ocean. Then you’ll need to take a couple more trains to get to the valley itself.” Komui says this in a matter-of-fact way, as if he wasn’t subjecting them to six to seven days of hell.

Some of this must have shown on his face, because Komui’s brows furrowed. “Is there a problem?”

Lenalee laughs, enjoying his suffering. “It’s nothing, brother. Lavi just gets seasick.”

Now there’s amusement in Komui’s eyes too. His eyes quickly turn more serious, however. His face is grave when he says, “There’s been a few changes as to how things are run around here. I’m sorry.”

Lavi tenses with a hand on his hammer and spins around off of the couch just as the doors open to Komui’s office. Two people, a man and a young woman, walk in together, each standing with a closeness that belies a trust to the other. They have a walk that only trained and experienced fighters can have, their footsteps silent as their eyes take in each aspect of the room around them. The man has reddish-brown eyes and blond hair pulled back into a braid, with bangs parted in the middle and two dots on his forehead. The young woman, nearly a head and a half shorter than him, has long curly blonde hair, red eyes, and the same two spots that the man has. Lavi is starting to get the picture here, especially when he notices that they’re both wearing long sleeves.

Lavi turns back to Komui. “So does every Exorcist have a watchdog, or are we just special?”

“Every Exorcist will be monitored from here on out,” the male CROW answers for Komui, and Lavi turns to see an irritated expression on his face. “However you and Ms. Lee will be given special attention considering your ties to the traitor.”

Lenalee’s eyes narrow. She frowns. “Traitor? You can’t mean-?”

“Kanda Yuu has been declared a rogue Exorcist and a traitor by the Black Order as of today.” The male CROW states with a frown.

Lenalee turns desperately to Komui. “Brother?”

Komui refuses to meet her eyes. “It’s true. I’m sorry, Lenalee.”

Well, it wasn’t anything Lavi hadn’t expected. If it’s not expected of you as a General, you can only leave the Order for so long before the words, “rogue Exorcist,” and “traitor,” start to be thrown around. And even General Cross had been pushing it a bit.

Lenalee goes quiet for a moment. Then she lifts her head and nods at Lavi, her expression determined. She slips her fingers into his, and Lavi squeezes her hand reassuringly. 

Right. 

Together.

* * *

Timothy wakes up lying in an uncomfortable bed with his stomach roiling, a gentle hand running through his hair. Timothy sighs, feeling safe and warm despite the horrible fever that must be raging through him. “Matron…?” He asks sleepily. Matron’s comforting hand freezes, and then moves away, and Timothy whines.

“No. It’s me, Timothy.” A familiar voice says, and Timothy’s eyes snap open, no longer tired in the slightest. A boy about his age with white hair, deep brown skin, dual colored eyes, and a scar down the left side of his face.

It all comes rushing back. Timothy pulls his knees up to his chest and looks away, trying to hide his tears. “S-Sorry.”

The bed dips as Allen sits beside him, though not nearly as much as the ship that bobs and bucks against the waves. Timothy’s stomach churns queasily. He grabs the bucket off of the bed that the crew had allowed him, though he knows he’ll eventually have to dump it in the ocean and so inevitably lose his lunch off of the sides of the ship.

They’d been on this ship for four days. 

Timothy really hated being seasick.

“It’s alright, Timothy. I understand.” Allen says, close enough for Timothy to feel his body heat but not close enough that they’re touching.

“How could you possibly understand?” Timothy blinks back tears, refusing to look at him.

“Did you think I never grieved for my father after he died?” Allen asks. Timothy stills. Allen had never once mentioned who the person who he tried to bring back had meant to him. Allen continues before Timothy can ask. “Every little thing used to remind me of him. The smell of aftershave, the sound of laughter. And even now, every time I taste peppermint I’m reminded of him.”

Timothy looks down, blinking back tears. “Matron used to take care of me when I was sick.”

Allen nods with a sad smile. “My father used to do the same.”

Timothy blinks, blinks, blinks, but the tears won’t stop coming anymore. Timothy buries his face in his knees as Allen wraps an arm around his shoulders, face screwed up as he sobs uncontrollably. When he comes out of it he realizes his stomach must have rebelled at the violent crying fit because the puke bucket is in front of him and rather full and Allen is holding his hair back.

“I’ll go dump this out,” Allen says, grabbing the bucket and walking to the door. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

Timothy nods, rolling over to do just that. He wakes up a few times, mostly to go to the bathroom or to have food handed to him which he readily eats, so he’s a bit disoriented when someone shakes him awake. 

“We’re here,” Allen tells him, looking a bit worse for the wear.

They depart off of the ship with bags in hand along with the rest of the passengers. The five of them quickly find a dinky motel to stay at, though their room only has three beds, so a couple of them will have to be doubling up. Once everyone’s settled with Toraido messing with the radio, Tyki flipping through a magazine, and Wisely reclining back on one of the beds with his eyes closed, Allen leaves the room with a quick excuse to Timothy and comes back an hour or so later looking much better off than he had before.

Timothy’s not sure he wants to know why.

Allen walks into the bathroom without meeting anyone’s eyes, and Timothy can hear the pipes squeal as the shower turns on. Timothy sits up on the bed, turning to Wisely to ask, “Did he… is he…” He swallows, his voice caught on words he can’t seem to say.

_ Did he kill someone? Is he okay? _

As ever, Wisely seems to know what he’s thinking. It’s what makes it so easy to talk to him. He doesn’t need to completely voice his thoughts to be heard. “Do you really want to know?” Wisely asks, raising an eyebrow.

_ I’m not sure, _ Timothy thinks.

He sets his jaw stubbornly. “Yeah, I do.” Timothy says, despite his uncertainty.

Wisely smiles, fondly amused. His eyes are half-lidded, like a cat’s. “Then yes, and no.”

Timothy’s heart stutters in his chest. “W-Was it a… a human?”

Tyki, now lying on his stomach on the dirty carpeted floor, looks up with a lit cigarette between his lips, halting his game of solitaire. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth with his brows furrowed. “I thought the boy already told you about his eating habits?” There’s a protective edge to the question that Timothy recognizes from Matron or even Emilia, and it makes Timothy respect the man for it.

“But how could he find an Akuma in less than an hour?” Timothy points out, though his feeling of safety is returning.

“His eye,” Toraido says without taking his eyes off of the disassembled remains of the radio. He’s somehow taken apart one of the lamps in the room too, all without them noticing. If there was anything Timothy had learned about Toraido in the last few days, it was that he was quiet, and that he liked to tinker with things. So did Allen to some degree, except Allen had the habit of taking things apart and putting them back together in ways that were frankly impossible. 

“The boy’s eye can detect Akuma. I’m sure he could easily pick one out of the crowd.” Tyki says, taking a long drag of his cigarette before releasing the smoke through parted lips. Wisely shoots him an annoyed look. Tyki smirks, taking another drag on his cigarette.

Timothy frowns. “Then why was he so upset?”

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself.” Tyki shrugs in a way that says, ‘I won’t tell you _ all _ the boy’s secrets,’ just as the water turns off and Timothy hears the shower curtain being pulled back.

Timothy huffs, irritated, but decides to let it go.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was really no way to mention this in-story, but the reason that some of the Noah and Allen could see Tsukikami is because in this AU, when certain abilities have similarities to each other they can align in new and different ways. Try to remember this, bc it will be important later on.
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones, just because I'm trying to cut down on chapter length so I can get them out faster. I already have chapter four written, which will be released when chapter five is done. ^^
> 
> Also, for any older readers, Allen's feather was blond because I changed his design up a little so that instead of his wings being black they're mostly white, with the flight feathers being blond. And yes, the security guard makes a reappearance. ^^ I have to admit it was mostly out of convenience more than anything, though I ended up enjoying her character interactions with Kanda. ^^
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments section, and don't forget to kudos! 
> 
> Timothy The Author: Hey! I'm still the author here, quit taking up my screentime!
> 
> _*click*_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen and Timothy go flying.
> 
> Allen and Tsukikami kiss and make up, (with much reluctance on both their parts), and Timothy has Innocence envy.
> 
> Tyki and Wisely are bad role models and irresponsible adults all wrapped in one, and Allen is _so done._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back-to-back updates from _me?_ It's happening. The apocalypse is nigh. 
> 
> Bury your gold!
> 
> ...You are buying gold, right?
> 
> GF references aside, I've finished chapter five earlier than I thought I would, and I thought you guys deserved some special treatment especially considering how slow of a writer I am. Also, I'm worried about my dog, and writing/posting as well as any comments or kudos would be a welcome distraction and really help with the stress of the situation. (I mean, it's not like there's visiting hours for dogs. Then they'd just expect that you're bringing them home, and be even more distressed when you leave without them)... 
> 
> No trigger warnings this time unless you're afraid of heights, (which might not apply to fiction? I have a fear of the ocean, but fiction descriptions in fiction as well as drawings of underwater scenes don't bother me too much, so, idk. I thought I'd warn jic).
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling!
> 
> Enjoy!

**night four · cracks**

* * *

Allen steps out of the bathroom in clothes he hadn’t previously been wearing when he went in. Timothy writes it off as more Akuma weirdness and leaves it at that. He smiles at Timothy and sits down on the bed beside him, and Timothy feels relieved that he’s in a better mood than before.

“So are you guys going to go find work or are you going to laze about all day?” Allen asks the three men in the room.

“Lazing about sounds good,” Wisely comments, looking amused when Allen huffs in affront.

“We just got here, boy. Let us relax a little.” Tyki agrees, stubbing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. 

Toraido blinks and then looks up from his tinkering fugue. He shrugs. “Either way is fine with me.”

Allen shoots him a grievously offended look, and Toraido folds like a house of cards. “Or we could go,” he suggests.

“Nah,” Wisely says.

“I think I’ll pass.” Tyki agrees.

Allen growls, literally  _ growls _ , crossing his arms over his chest with a deep frown on his face. Timothy hesitates, not sure he wants to get involved with the considerable risk of his hand getting bitten off by an angry Akuma, but he still places a hand on Allen’s shoulder to get his attention. “Hey Allen, do you want to go flying?” Timothy asks. He’s not asking for himself, as his first experience flying with Allen hadn’t exactly been pleasant. (Though he is willing to give it a retry. After all, who wouldn’t?) He figures flying is some kind of stress relief for Allen. It would be for him if Timothy could fly.

And it’s not like Timothy is nervous to try flying again.

No, not at all.

Nope.

Immediately some of the tension slips from Allen’s shoulders. He smiles at Timothy. “That sounds nice. Would you like to come with me?”

Timothy grins, despite his trepidation. “Yeah, of course!”   
  
“Make sure you know where you’re going this time, boy. You wouldn’t want to get lost again.” Tyki says teasingly.

Timothy scowls. “We know perfectly well where we’re going and we're not going to get lost!” He snaps, his face feeling hot. He hates being teased, even second handedly.

“Actually, that’s probably not a bad idea,” Allen says sheepishly. “I have a tendency to get lost most of the time.”

Timothy scowls. “Then how the heck do you fly anywhere?!”

Allen smiles and puts up a finger in a synonymous ‘wait’ gesture. “Timcanpy, wake up.” He says, poking at the collar of his shirt. Something inside his shirt wriggles, before a weird golden ball emerges and alights on his shoulder. Timothy and the golden ball examine each other. The golden ball has four stubby legs which it uses to perch on Allen’s shoulder, two small curved horns on top of its head, with feathery wings that stretch out from its body and a long tail with a swirl on the end. Its face has no eyes with a light gold cross on its front, with a mouth full of sharp shark-like teeth.

In other words:

“Wow, he’s so cool!” Timothy says in excitement, because  _ obviously _ it’s a he. “Here, I’ll hold him.” 

He scoops Timcanpy off of Allen’s shoulder, cupping him in the palm of his hands. He strokes the creature’s outer shell, scratching behind his horns. This counts as a pet, right? Back at the orphanage, they had never been allowed pets, and Timothy had always wanted one. He used to lure in stray cats with food and then get reprimanded later for keeping it in the boy’s dorm. Probably because of the fleas. Even after washing them he could never get rid of them all. Despite this, Matron never reprimanded him for it. She probably knew how lonely Timothy was.

Had been.

Timothy’s hand stills at the reminder of the orphanage, and he closes his eyes, his heart aching. He blinks as a weight settles on his head, and he realizes that Timcanpy has left his hands to nestle into his hair. Timothy looks up at Timcanpy to see sharp teeth grinning down at him, and Timothy looks to Allen, dumbfounded. Allen laughs. “Don’t worry, that just means he likes you.”

Timothy puffs up with pride. “Well of course he does. I’m me.” He frowns, suddenly remembering their current dilemma. “But how is he supposed to help us?”

Allen opens up one of the suitcases and begins to rifle through it. “Believe it or not, Timcanpy is the one who guides me on most of my flights. He likes to hide in my mane, so it makes sense that you didn’t notice him.”

Timothy’s brows furrowed. “So what is he, exactly?”

“He’s a golem. Usually the Black Order uses them, though their golems look different than Timcanpy does. He’s not wired into their signal, though, so they can’t track him.” Rifling through the bag and reaching straight through it all the way up to his shoulder in a way that should be impossible but obviously isn’t, Allen utters a faint, ‘ah-ha!’ and then emerges from the depths of the bag holding a large rolled up piece of paper.

Timothy has. So many questions.

If it weren’t for the impossible (and apparently dangerous) globe of water with the killer butterfly inside, Timothy might not have noticed until later. He might not know much about families compared to some kids, but he knew enough from his own experiences to know that this one was downright strange. Normal families weren’t so blasé about topics such as death and murder. Normal families couldn’t make the impossible possible. The slight uneasiness he had felt around the three men had faded with time, an uneasiness that Allen had–mostly–lacked, and Timothy would be fine with all of that if only someone would give him a straight answer around here.

But no.

It's all "later," Timothy's, and "are you sure you want to know that?" Timothy's. 

It's so unfair that he thinks he could cry.

…If crying were a thing he did. Which it wasn't.

Allen unrolls the piece of paper over the desk to reveal a map. Looking down at it, Timothy feels an odd pull in his gut. He points to a location on the map and asks curiously, “what’s there?”

Allen blinks at him. “Can’t you read it yourself?”

“Of course I can!” Timothy snaps. He squints down at the map. But the weird scribbles don’t mean anything to him, and the more he looks at them the more they dance and move before his eyes.

“It’s called The Valley of The Ten Peaks,” Allen explains.

Timothy flushes. “I knew that!”

“I never said you didn’t.” Allen says, reaching out a hand.

Timothy steps back. He takes a deep breath. Angry and frustrated, he shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go flying anymore. But something stops him from saying so. It might be because he wants to make Allen feel better, or it might be because of that odd pull that he’s feeling. Too annoying to walk away from, too prevalent to ignore.

“Timothy…” 

Timothy hates the look in his eyes. The pity there. Timothy hates being pitied, especially since Allen has just as shit a life as he does. Timothy crosses his arms and nods to the place on the map. “So are we going, or not?”

Allen blinks and looks down at the map, surprised. “I suppose we could…” Timcanpy lifts off of Timothy’s head with a flap of his wings, gliding over to alight on top of the desk. His tail waves in curiosity as he inspects the map. Allen grins at him. “What do you think, Tim? Can you take us there?”

Timcanpy smiles, his mouth full of razor sharp teeth, and alights onto Allen’s head, nestling into his hair. 

“Have fun,” Wisely says, raising a hand in goodbye.

“Try not to traumatize any humans this time, will you boy?” Tyki teases, and Allen scowls at him.

Timothy frowns at the phrasing. ‘Humans,’ not ‘people.’ It was like they considered themselves above humans. 

And so above him as well.

Timothy scowls, his mood darkening further. 

He'd be glad to get away for a little while.

* * *

Now on the flat bottomed roof of the motel seven stories away from the ground, Timothy is starting to have second thoughts. He'd been too out of it to really pay attention during his previous flight, but flying suddenly seemed a lot more daunting standing up here than it had on the ground. Timothy gulps as he peers over the edge of the building, the cold wind buffeting his hair. "Are you nervous?" Allen asks, stepping up beside him.

Was it that obvious? "Only a little," Timothy lies, and Allen nods with a smile, accepting this. From atop Allen’s head, Timcanpy gives Timothy what might be called a skeptical look. Timothy resists the urge to glare.

"You're not too cold, are you?" Allen asks.

"I should be asking you that." Timothy points out, taking a few generous steps away from the edge of the building. Anticipating Canada's cold weather, they had equipped Timothy with sturdy brown boots, two layers of brightly colored coats, a brown hat and a blue scarf, along with black gloves that Timothy had insisted be fingerless but which Allen had ignored, causing him to cut off the fingers of them in rebellion. Despite this, all they had bought for Allen was a thin black coat and a worn pink scarf. The others, too, thought they didn't need much protection from the cold.

More peculiarities.

More weirdness to go with it all.

More ways that they refuse to tell him the truth.

Is that really too much to ask for?

Allen shrugs, smiling wryly. "Akuma don't really feel the cold."

"Oh." Timothy says, suddenly feeling awkward. How can someone who hasn't felt the cold for six years even care about the weather?

Allen smiles to dispel the awkwardness. "Well come on. We should get going."

Timothy nods. "Right." He agrees reluctantly.

Before Allen can do anything, though, Tsukikami appears beside him. They had been remarkably quiet on the trip to Canada, almost contemplative. If Timothy didn’t know better, he’d say that the Innocence was doubting their first judgement of Allen. But even if they were, that didn’t make Timothy any less pissed at them for doubting Timothy’s life choices.

_ “I want proof,” _ Tsukikami says, bringing their eyes up to meet Allen’s challengingly.

Allen crosses his arms and scowls. “Proof of what, exactly?”

_ “Proof that the Innocence is truly yours, and not stolen off of some dead Exorcist’s corpse.” _ Tsukikami says, crossing their arms and meeting Allen’s eyes.

Allen glares at them for a moment, and then huffs. “Fine.”

Soft green light encompasses his form, bright and nearly blinding, and then dissipates and leaves him cloaked in pure white. The feathered cloak wraps snugly around his small frame, over his right arm and hand creating white gloves, the end of the cloak nearly reaching the floor. It has a feathery hood with a metallic black and gold half mask, and his left arm is black and slim, with golden accents and four foot long metallic claws.

Timothy glances over a Tsukikami and then touches the ball on his forehead self-consciously.

He’s not jealous.

Nope.

He’s perfectly happy with the (lame) Innocence he’s got.

“Happy?” Allen asks, throwing his hands up in the air.

Tsukikami sighs. The words are practically dragged out of them when they say,  _ “...I guess I was wrong about you.” _ Timothy winces. That just looked painful. Does he look like that when he’s apologizing?  _ “Can we start again?” _ Tsukikami holds out a hesitant hand, as if afraid of being burned.

Allen nods with a smile. “Of course.” He takes Tsukikami’s hand in his own and Timothy is surprised when he actually grasps it, though only for the barest moment before it slips through like smoke.

Allen nods to Tsukikami as if this were perfectly normal, then deactivates his Innocence and turns to Timothy. “Well, then. Let’s get started.”

Allen first steps into the middle of the rooftop, as his form his pretty big and it would suck if he caved in the roof on accident or something. He glances around the rooftop, alert for any prying eyes, before his body shifts and changes before Timothy’s eyes. It grows and expands around itself, flesh and fur shifting and flowing until Allen's familiar draconic figure stands before him. Allen takes up about 2⁄3's of the space on the roof while transformed, which doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for Timothy. 

Allen crouches on the surface of the roof, laying his large head down and looking at Timothy with heterochromatic eyes. His wolf-like ears are pricked with his wings close against his side. His long tail is curled around him, whiskered maw twitching as if taking in the scents around them. Allen twists his head on his long serpentine neck so he’s looking at him out of one eye, the red and black one. ** “Are you coming or not?”** He asks, his voice sounding different now. Older, for one thing. But also as if his voice were being filtered through a radio suffering from heavy static.

All Akuma voices seemed to sound like that, in Akuma form anyway. He’ll just have to get used to it.

Maybe.

Timothy swallows down his trepidation. “Yeah, of course.” He says, sounding more confident than he felt. Timothy gulps, trying to decide where exactly, he should sit. He wouldn’t be able to sit on his shoulders, because they were too wide. Sitting on his back was probably bad too, as there was nothing to hold onto. Timothy sighs with his fists clenched, frustrated with himself, when an answer comes to him practically gift wrapped.

Feathery white fur on Allen’s crest moves and sways and Timcanpy wriggles his way out of the thick fur, winging toward Timothy and landing on his shoulder to give him an irritated look. At least Timothy thinks so. Can golems give irritated looks? Timothy will have to ask Allen later.

He’d at least answer about that, right?

Timothy strides over and slings a leg over Allen’s neck, grabbing hold of the feathery tendrils of his crest. “Is this okay?” He asks.

**“So long as you can hold on tight.”** Allen replies. Then he launches them into the air, the great beating of his wings making them rise higher and higher into the sky, Timothy burying his face into Allen’s fur because he’s afraid if he looks down he might puke on some poor innocent bystander.

It’s not just because he’s afraid to look down.

No.

Why would he be?

Their ascension stops as Allen cruises into a glide, and Timothy takes a chance and looks up from his safe haven from within Allen’s fur. His eyes widen. The wide blue sky stretches endlessly around them, the buildings beneath them reduced to nothing more than shining lights far below. Above them are wispy white clouds, and Timothy lifts up a hand through them as Allen flies by, surprised and delighted when it comes away wet with water. The air up here is free of the city’s pollution, crisp and clear and tasting of winter, the cold wind biting into Timothy’s cheeks. 

Alright, so maybe flying isn’t so bad.

**“Enjoying yourself up there?”** Allen asks teasingly.

Timothy flushes. “No,” he says sulkily.

**“Alright, if you say so.”** Allen says, and for once, Timothy thinks the teasing might not be malicious.

They fly for a while in silence, Timothy enjoying the scenic view while Allen follows behind the golem leading them to their destination. Watching things go by below him soon gets boring for Timothy, and it must bore Allen too. So they start talking and the topic eventually falls on “embarrassing family stories.” It turns out that a lot of Allen’s embarrassing stories involved breaking the law in some way. Though he kept things vague on that part, Timothy could read through the lines.

**“–and then the poor nurse picked up a scalpel and started attacking Wisely, even though we had tried to explain that the patient had been an Akuma. It took me a bit to get her to stop attacking so we could explain, and by then I was quite covered in Wisely’s blood. I went to wash it off, but I was rather distracted by making sure no one would see me, so I walked right in on a doctor telling his patient that she wouldn’t live past thirty. They both looked quite shocked and horrified upon seeing me, so I told her that I hadn’t lived past ten and she should be happy with what she’s got.”** Allen pauses.  **“I’m pretty sure they were convinced I was a ghost.”** He sounds amused at that. 

“You’re horrible,” Timothy laughs.

**“And you’re adorable.”** Allen quips back.

Timothy huffs, his grip on Allen’s fur tightening. “I am not!”

**“Adorable.”**

“Horrible!”

**“Adorable.”**

“Horrible!”

Despite this, Timothy couldn’t stop smiling.

Maybe… things wouldn’t be so bad. At least with Allen.

* * *

They land on a bank of rocks in front of a large body of water, rocks and snow being kicked up by Allen’s landing, a stray pine tree struck down by Allen’s tail. Timothy looks around in awe. This place isn’t called The Valley of The Ten Peaks for nothing. They’re surrounded by steep and rocky mountains which tower over them, mountaintops covered in snow which dusted down their sides and into the pine trees that sweep over the vast land across from the frozen over lake. The air is cold and biting, scraping across the inside of Timothy’s lungs every time he breathes. Despite this, there’s a feeling of welcome in the air as Timothy forces his stiff legs over Allen’s neck. He falls to the ground with an “oof!” and Timothy doesn’t miss Allen’s amused look.

Timothy scowls at him, but before he can say anything Allen is changing back into his human form, his flesh and muscles twisting and flowing like water until a human form appears, clothes swirling into being like smoke. He’s wearing a grey-blue shirt with dark pants and lightly worn red and black boots, with the same threadbare black jacket and pink scarf he’d had on before. 

Allen smiles at him. “Come on, let’s go.”

Timothy nods. “Right.” He takes a step forward, only to lose his balance and crash to the ground. Pain flares inside him, his blood surging through his veins as agony beats a furious tempo throughout his body. He thinks he can hear a voice–panicked, yet soothing. Timothy has a sense of everything around him growing bigger as he grows smaller. And then he is blinded, and he sees no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffy is a cliffy.
> 
> About how the characters were acting, especially in regards to Timothy: I realized after writing the third chapter that I had fallen into a pitfall that a lot of good writers stumble into; character bias. Character bias is exactly what it sounds like.   
The author basically likes all of their characters so much that they expect the rest of the characters to like each other too, even if they're complete strangers who should have no reason to like or trust each other.   
(And honestly? Timothy has only known them for about a week at this point. Enough to form tenuous friendships, but also to definitely notice something _off_ about the family. And if there's one thing Timothy hates, it's people trying to make decisions for him, and them not even letting him form his own opinion about a situation they're not telling him about is bound to make him upset and angry.)   
And when there's character bias, there tends not to be much conflict between the characters. (Which doesn't make much sense considering how much of a brat Timothy is). But I can't exactly go back and change pre-existing chapters bc I have no idea how that would change the plot or character relationships. So please, just bear with my mistakes. ^^;
> 
> I can't say much else without giving out spoilers, so comments?
> 
> Kudos?
> 
> Screaming at me about how unfair the cliffhanger was? *evil laughter*
> 
> Well, see y'all next chap!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanda writes a letter and gets an unexpected response.
> 
> Allen and Timothy meet a certain group of Exorcists, and things go better than could be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all!
> 
> I've got a new chapter for you all, and I'm pretty excited for you to see it! ^^
> 
> Trigger warnings for mention of vomiting, (not shown), hearing voices, PTSD, and mentions of child abuse.
> 
> If you can get through all that, enjoy! ^^

**night five • alliance**

* * *

Lenalee sits in the train car with Lavi's and Miranda's comforting presences flanking her, eyeing the CROW sitting across from her warily. Howard Link's eyes are sharp as he watches them, examining them as if they were bugs trapped under a glass. Tewaku keeps her eyes on their surroundings, alert for any danger. Lavi is eyeing the CROW in a considering way that puts Lenalee on edge. Miranda is looking between each person nervously, the tension that hangs in the air thick enough to choke on.

"So what were your names again?" Lavi asks Link, breaking the tension in the air. Miranda subtly relaxes, but Lenalee doesn't. Something black and ugly bubbles up in her throat, hot and searing like black tar, and it takes all she has to swallow it down, heart beating hard and fast in her chest. Her eyes burn and her emotions rage inside her, but she quiets them, settling a vicious glare on the CROW Lavi had addressed.

"I would think you a poor Bookmen's Apprentice if you could not even remember our names after we had been introduced." Link says.

"Aw, gimme a break," Lavi laughs. "You can hardly expect me to remember your names when I was busy hurling over the side of the ship for most of the journey."

Lenalee knows this is a lie. Lavi has an eidetic memory, or something close to it. From the way Link frowns, he's thinking similar thoughts.

He simply nods, however. "Very well. My name is Howard Link and this is my associate, Tewaku. We have been ordered to monitor you, you and Ms. Lee specifically." Lenalee can't help a small flinch at that, rubbing at her arms nervously.

No straps.

No restraints.

She's okay.

She's free.

_ For now, _ the voice whispers.

_ No! Brother… brother will protect us, just like he did before. _ Lenalee argues.

_ Can brother protect us and Kanda at the same time, though? _ The voice questions.

"Is there something wrong, Ms. Lee?" Link asks, and Lenalee realizes she's been staring.

She scowls at him. "No. Nothing."

Link clears his throat uncomfortably. "Well, as I was saying earlier, as I work directly under Chief Inspector Leverrier, I am charged with questioning you about this incident." He takes a notepad and pen out of his pocket and fixes his brown gaze on Lenalee. "Ms. Lee. Where were you on the night Kanda Yuu disappeared?"

"She was with me," Lavi interjects with a raunchy grin.

The CROW narrows his eyes. "Really. Because several eye witness reports put her with Kanda Yuu mere hours before his escape. You might want to retract that statement, Bookman."

Lavi raises up his hands. "Statement retracted, jeez." He tilts his head to see the CROW better with his limited depth perception, a dangerous glint to his lone green eye. "However it is interesting that you would use the term 'escaped' rather than 'ran away.' Any thoughts?"

Both CROW shift uncomfortably, before Tewaku's eyes harden. "Whatever terms my partner has used, the truth of the matter is that Lenalee was the last one to be seen with Kanda before his disappearance. Is there anything you'd like to say to that, Lenalee?"

Lenalee takes a deep breath, the blood pounding in her ears and the death grip she has on the folds of her skirt the only accompaniment to the hatred and fear broiling in her heart. "Just that I haven't done anything wrong, and neither has Kanda."

Link snorts. "We'll see about that." Clicking his pen, the CROW asks, "so what happened on the night of Kanda Yuu's disappearance?"

Lenalee is forced to recount what little she knows to the persistent CROW. After she does, he looks down at his notepad, pen against his chin. "This is troubling," he says, meeting her eyes. "He said 'something' not 'someone', correct?"

Lenalee nods, confused. "Yes…?"

The CROW frowns. "Still, I must inform Chief Inspector Leverrier right away. The consequences should he know…" Link shakes his head and goes silent, leaving Lenalee to wonder just what he meant. 

* * *

The train comes to a stop at its destination, and they all climb out with stiff legs and sore backs, though there's a clear divide in the group between the Exorcists and the CROW. Leaving the outskirts of the town, they pull on warm clothing, sling their bags over their shoulders, check their weapons–or in certain cases, spell tags–and head up the snow packed trial leading up towards The Valley of The Ten Peaks.

* * *

"Timothy, what's-?" Allen doesn't get to finish his sentence. Timothy screams in pain, tears streaming down his face. Bones visibly shift and grind in his face, black claws protruding from his fingernails as blue fur climbs up his neck. Allen grabs onto his arm, to do–something, he doesn't know what. But Timothy howls in pain and Allen let's go as if burned.

"T-Timothy, Timothy, it's okay, Timothy." Allen says, kneeling beside him, his hands hovering over him but not quite touching him. He tries his best to make his voice soothing, but he's not sure if he succeeds with the panic running through him. 

What's going on?

What the hell is happening to Timothy?

Muscle and fur undulate and flow like water, and then Timothy is shrinking. He becomes so small that he's dwarfed by his clothes, enfolded inside of them and making noises that sound more panicked than in pain.

"Timothy?"

"Allen? Where am I? Why can't I see?" Timothy replies, and Allen lets out a sigh of relief.

At least he could talk. Allen steels himself and lifts up the shirt off of Timothy. A small otter with a dark blue overcoat and an aqua underbelly shakes out his fur to look at Allen with bright brown eyes, the aqua ball on his forehead quite prevalent.

But still… 

"Timothy?" Allen asks incredulously.

Timothy huffs, whiskers twitching. "What?" He asks, hunching in on himself defensively.

Allen smiles at him reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll figure this out."

Timothy growls at him. "How can you even say that when you don't know what's going on, either?"

"Because we have to." Allen says determinedly.

* * *

_ Tiedoll, _

_ I know by the time you’ll be reading this I’ll likely be seen as an enemy of the Order, but please, hear me out.  _

_ I’m currently hunting down the Akuma who kidnapped and supposedly killed Timothy Hearst. However when I came across the Akuma’s hideout–it was empty you idiot so quit worrying–I found traces of Timothy’s aura, as well as the Akuma’s. _

_ But that wasn’t the strangest thing. I noticed in both of their auras that Timothy and the Akuma had formed bonds with the other, which an Akuma should not be capable of. The Akuma also appeared to be a Level Two, and yet easily took down and cannibalized a Level Four. I expect you to tell me everything you know about this, as you always seem to know more than you’re saying. _

<strike> _ Tell Marie _ _ _ </strike>

_ Tell Lavi not to do anything stupid while I’m gone, _

_ Kanda _

* * *

_ _

_ Dearest Yuu, _

_ You should know better by now, Yuu. You know that I’d never turn away an apprentice in need. As for your questions, what you have witnessed is not impossible. There is a certain individual who I will not name who modifies Akuma. This makes it easier to think and rationalize just like a human might, and easier to control their killing instincts. If I could hazard a guess, I would say from your description that the Akuma you met prefers to cannibalize, and is rather friendly towards humans. _

_ On another note, are you sleeping enough Yuu? Eating? And make sure to take the proper time to grieve. Loss is not the same as weakness, and especially in times of war…  _

* * *

As they make their way up the trail towards their destination, slogging through snow and mud that Link is sure he’ll be cleaning out of his boots for weeks, Link goes over what he’s learned so far, turning the information over and over inside his mind.

The Bookman’s Apprentice is surprisingly less neutral than they had thought. A plan of Bookman’s, or a flaw in the Apprentice? Link could see it going either way. Gain their trust by seeming to be on their side, or the Apprentice changing allegiances without Bookman’s knowledge. Either way, the Apprentice was one to keep a careful watch on.

And then there’s Ms. Lee. Who seems at once angry and terrified of the CROW. Link can understand in a sense, with her background. A pang of guilt runs through him, and Link glances behind himself to look at her where she’s plodding in the snow behind both him and Tewaku, too distrustful to have her back to them. He looks away, shaking it off and continuing his overview. She had eventually caved about the information she knew about her comrade. A part of him can only think of Tewaku or Madarao and what he would do if they were in a similar position. It makes him feel a reluctant respect for her, but this is soon followed by guilt as he remembers what Leverrier would think. No matter how much he tries to quash it however, the respect remains.

Link’s mouth is dry and his body sore and tired from that of a good workout as they finally make it into the Valley, and they stop on a rocky bank before a great frozen lake. It had only gotten colder the farther they had gone, and Link blows on his hands, rubbing them together in hopes of warmth. He could always use a Flame Wing to start a fire, but he has a feeling Lenalee wouldn’t appreciate that.

“Wow, it’s beautiful up here.” Lenalee says.

Link looks around and catches his breath. The sky is a bright clear blue, the air cold and crisp and oddly refreshing. The mountains surrounding them from all sides are dotted with snow, a rolling expanse of pine trees covered with rocky hills and rolling slopes, the frozen lake reflecting the light from the sun above.

“I suppose it is,” Link agrees. Lenalee looks at him oddly, as if she hadn’t expected him to agree with her.   


“S-So, should w-we be setting up c-camp or-or something?” Miranda asks, shivering from the cold. 

Lavi nods. “Probably. The problem is that this just isn’t an ideal place.” He says, gesturing towards the rock covered ground.

Link nods in agreement. “It would be best if we could find some other place to set up camp. Preferably high ground so we can see anyone coming, but concealed so that they cannot see us.”

Lavi nods, a hand placed on his chin. “While that’s a sound strategy, you have to remember that any Akuma in the area will be drawn to us because of our Innocence. Any high ground or concealment will mean null and void to an Akuma.”

Link frowns thoughtfully, and then nods. That’s sound logic. He’s not used to taking Innocence into account, most of his missions being with other CROW up until this point. Link has to respect the Bookman’s Apprentice’s intelligence, if nothing else.

It’s sound logic, and Link tells him so with complete seriousness. The Bookman’s Apprentice’s face splits into a grin, and he slaps Link on the back in what Link assumes is meant to be a friendly manner. “C’mon, let’s go find a place to make camp.” He says with a grin.

They enter the woods and soon find a rocky slope that is too precarious for any of them to climb and takes Lenalee flying all of them to the top. The top of the slope is, thankfully, covered in grass and snow with only a few rocks scattered here and there, which Link hopes, along with the difficult climb, will keep any pursuers and some flightless Level Two Akuma at bay. The slope is more open than Link would like, with a good few yards away from the trees, but they start setting up the tents and looking for firewood despite Link’s misgivings.

As the sun sets on the horizon and they sit around the fire eating their Black Order mandated rations, Lenalee turns to the Bookman’s Apprentice and asks, “So what’s the plan, Lavi?” Link shifts uncomfortably in his seat, he and Tewaku sharing a glance. They hadn’t been expressly ordered not to follow any plans that the Exorcists came up with. But they hadn’t been ordered to follow their plans either. 

Tewaku meets his eyes, her hands forming familiar CROW hand signs.

_ follow  _

_ later _

_ ? _

Link nods. They could follow for now. As for later, well, they’ll see. 

The Bookman's Apprentice crunches down thoughtfully on his ration bar, and Link winces. While Black Order rations are not unpalatable, the texture is much to be desired. "I think the best source of information is one of these 'talking animals.'" The Bookman's Apprentice says, using over exaggerated air quotes to get his point across. He shrugs. "We find one, and then whether it talks or not, we'll go from there."

Link frowns. It wasn't a bad plan. "And if not?"

The Bookman's Apprentice grins. "Then the anomaly is a hoax and we get to go home."

Suddenly the bushes rustle at the edge of the forest, and as one everyone leaps to their feet, readying spell tags or activating their weapons.

A small white haired child with a scar on his face smiles at them nervously, looking slightly afraid. He's holding a small light blue otter in his arms that's currently bristling and hissing at them threateningly.

Well.

What to do with this situation?

* * *

It had taken a while for the Exorcists to trust them enough to deactivate their weapons, though they still kept an alert watch on them. Oddly enough, the group had easily let them approach to sit by the fire, poised and wary as if waiting for something. It was only when that something never came to be that they began to relax, eyes still sharp and yet gaining a hint of curiosity, even concern.

It's a concerningly worried looking woman with brown hair and brown eyes that speaks first. At least, Timothy  _ hopes _ they're brown. Coming out of the shapeshifting he had found that colors looked different than they had before. Allen's eye had looked cerulean blue, the other a lighter red than the blood red it usually was, though at least the black was still there. The color of the pine trees had an odd sea green quality to them, the same green as the redheaded Exorcist's lone green eye.

"W-what are y-you doing out here a-all alone?" She asks hesitantly, directing her attention solely on Allen.

"Hey, what about me?" Timothy asks with a hiss. A threatening hiss. Definitely not a distressed one.

The redhead's eyebrows furrowed. "Aren't you just an animal of this forest?"

Timothy bristles with a growl. "Not until a few hours ago I wasn't!"

The blond man with two spots on his forehead says, “why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Timothy hisses. “Why should we trust you? You haven’t even introduced yourselves!”

Allen places a gloved hand on the top of Timothy’s head, running gloved fingers through his thick fur and effectively calming him. “I agree with Théo on this one,” Allen says, making Timothy twitch. An alias? It’s a good idea, but that doesn’t mean Timothy has to like it. He nips Allen’s fingers lightly to show his displeasure, and Allen threads his fingers through his fur in apology. “We have absolutely no reason to trust you with this information, especially considering how we met.”

There’s a collective wince around the fire. Ha. Serves them right.

Timothy might not blame them for the deaths of his family as much as a certain ponytailed Exorcist, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take out his anger and spite towards them.

After all, it’s not like it’s his fault.

No.

It’s that stupid Exorcist’s fault, no matter what he had thought at first.

The threads of Timothy’s heart feel like they’re slowly ripping apart, and he turns and presses his face into Allen’s stomach with a distressed yelp.

The feeling is anger.

_ Definitely _ anger.

Allen runs his fingers soothingly through Timothy’s fur. Timothy thinks it’s a little weird how quickly he’s adjusted to his new body. Well, aside from being able to walk in it. (Having to be carried was embarrassing). But he feels like he shouldn’t be so calm, like he should be freaking out over the fact that he turned into a fucking otter. But this body, even though he’s not used to it, feels… natural to him. As natural as his old body. And while not being able to change back into a human is a definite worry, (especially when nature calls), that feeling of familiarity has him feeling calmer than he probably should.

“Is he okay?” The female Exorcist with dark hair and pale purple eyes asks. Timothy recognizes the sound of her voice. Though there’s genuine concern there, Timothy doesn’t feel like looking back at any of them any time soon. He nudges the edge of Allen’s jacket with his muzzle and wriggles his head and shoulders into the space in order to illustrate this point, claws digging into Allen’s shirt. The jacket is still thin enough that he can see outside of it, and he turns his head to rest it on Allen’s chest in order to see better, oddly soothed by the silence in lieu of a heartbeat.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” The redhead asks with a raised eyebrow.

Allen nods. “We’ve had a rough time of it,” he admits.

The redhead nods with a smile. “I’m Lavi by the way. This is Lenalee, Miranda, Tewaku, and Link.” Lavi pauses, thoughtful. “As for why you should trust us, well. It’s our job to take care of things like this, and we can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is.”

“So you’re like the police?” Allen asks with, Timothy admits, perfectly faked confusion.

“In a way.” Link says. He’s sending Allen and Timothy surreptitious glances that seem at once wary and worried, and he keeps glancing at the food in his hands as if he’d like to shove it down Allen’s throat to prevent starvation. He finally seems to cave as he passes some jerky their way. Timothy immediately perks up, nose twitching at the smell. He crawls up Allen’s front until his head pops up out of the neck of the jacket, nearly salivating. Allen laughs, as do a few others, but Timothy hardly notices. His stomach, which had long ago stopped its incessant growling as it dealt with the hunger, roars to life. Timothy doesn’t try to bite Allen’s fingers off when he feeds him the first piece of jerky, but it’s a close thing.

Allen eventually just holds the bag open for Timothy to dive into, chirping with bliss at each bite. Timothy barely catches the concern in Link’s voice as he says, “aren’t you going to eat some too, Mr. ...?”

Allen shakes his head. “He needs it more than me.” He says, earning soft looks from the two blonds and Lenalee. Allen smiles. “My name’s Allen Walker, and this is Théo Laurent.” Timothy feels a flash of irritation. He has to use an alias, but Allen doesn’t? How is that fair? Timothy crunches on some jerky sulkily. Maybe… maybe there’s a reason. Allen better tell him about it though, or Timothy might just decide not to use it.

Timothy wriggles out of Allen’s jacket and onto his lap, curling up there with jerky in paw. Giving the Exorcists the cold shoulder wasn’t having the desired effect anyway. Timothy noses at the packet, only to find that it’s empty. He’s just about to voice his complaint as loudly and obnoxiously as possible when Link hands over another packet to Allen, who rips it open and puts it in reach of Timothy.

…Alright, so maybe Link isn’t  _ so _ bad. 

Allen is weaving a clever story of truths and lies when he suddenly stills. Timothy hears it a moment later; the sound of hooves pounding against the turf, of wings beating against the air, of paws running across the ground. Animals of the forest are approaching, and Timothy feels so conflicted he’s not sure what he’s feeling. The Exorcists are looking at them warily, so Timothy says, “there are animals coming from the forest!”

The Exorcists leap to their feet, activating their weapons. Link and Tewaku don’t, for some reason. The first to step out is a dark brown wolverine, with black eyes and a trickster’s smile. “Hey everybody,” he calls, “I’m back!”

Lenalee’s expression turns to confusion, with a hint of recognition in her eyes. Lavi’s eyes are calculating as he examines everything about the wolverine, but it’s only when the blind wolf steps out of the forest that his eyes widen in horrified realization.

What is it?

What are they realizing that I’m not?

And then a beautiful doe with golden blonde fur and ocean blue eyes steps gracefully out of the forest, her eyes meeting Timothy’s and widening.

Timothy would know those eyes anywhere.

“E-Emilia?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwhahahahaha! I am GOD! I bring back and kill who I please! And no one can stop me-!
> 
> *ahem* Anyway, resurrection is a resurrection. 
> 
> And Timothy's guilt complex makes a reappearance. 
> 
> Also, I really enjoyed writing from Link's perspective for some reason, so expect more of that.
> 
> I sort of forgot about Timcanpy in this chapter. ^^; Please forgive me! OTL
> 
> Also it came to my attention that Timothy's name had been basically westernized, as in French it's spelled either Timothé or Timotheé. Rather than change his name, whichever name Timothy chooses to use while crossdressing will most likely not be westernized. (Because you'd figure he'd stick to his roots and choose a french name. I've already got one picked out that hopefully won't sound too pretentious). 
> 
> So tell me what you think in the comments! ^^


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reunions are made, and happiness is found.
> 
> At least, for a short while...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all!
> 
> Really, really sorry about the late update, but I've got other fics that I have priorities to, and sometimes you just have to write for what you're inspired for.
> 
> A bit of a warning for emotional manipulation/violation, though it's pretty subtle so you might miss it.
> 
> Enjoy!

**night six • the fallen**

* * *

The Goddess observes her protector’s reunions with their loved ones with a sort of detached apathy. She did not used to be a Goddess, but so they named her and so she became. She is always with her protectors and always a part of them. She keeps them safe, making sure they do things as they should be. The Goddess’s domain revolves around certain rules that cannot be broken. To do so would allow dire consequences for all. 

Her sayshēi–one of four who are trusted with matters above all other protectors in her land–Marie has a heart full of sadness and understanding, a heart that is a little broken inside because, his mind whispers, this reunion will not last forever. The Goddess does not understand human emotions, but she can understand by experiencing through Marie’s senses. The scents of grief, hope, and happiness coming from a familiar heartbeat Marie can hear smelling of milk and coffee and the fresh winter wind.

Another heartbeat stands behind her, but his is less calm than hers. He smells of old books and rising flames, and his emotions are calculating. Happy, yet conflicted, a war raging inside him.  _ Being a Bookman has not spared Lavi loyalties in the war _ , Marie notes, and Goddess files the term ‘Bookman’ away to ask her sayshēi about later. 

_ Of course, my Goddess. Whatever you may need of me. _ Marie assures, and Goddess floods him with her approval, his abashed pleasure satisfying her. 

“Marie!” Marie stills at the familiar voice. She sounds desperate and filled with love and longing, and despite what Marie knows what he should do, he turns towards the source of the voice, heart aching.

Miranda crashes into Marie, her knees sliding painfully into the cold, wet snow. But she doesn’t care. Not now. Not with Marie right in front of her. She sobs, burying her face into his ruff, fingers sunk into his fur as if afraid he might disappear before her eyes. Which he just might. This could all be some wonderful dream. A dream that she might wake up from at any moment. A-And if this is a dream, she doesn’t want to wake up. It had near broken her when she had gotten the news. B-But then she had gotten some unlikely encouragement, and from General Nyne herself! 

_ “Sometimes the world is harsh, and it kicks you in the teeth. But either you get up, or you lay down and die there. So which is it, Exorcist?” _

It had b-been… hard, to just. Pretend nothing had happened. That nothing was wrong. That she was okay when she really wasn’t. But she doesn’t have to anymore. Now that Marie is here. “Marie, I-I missed you so much!” Miranda wails, grasping him tighter. Marie lets her, rubbing his head against her hair and licking her cheek in affection.

“I missed you, too.” Marie says, quietly. As if hoping his Goddess might not hear.

But she does.

She knows everything that happens within her domain.

* * *

Lenalee is sitting on the ground with Daisa in her lap and an odd black and white bird with an orange and yellow beak with intense blue eyes perched on her shoulder.

The bird happens to be called a Puffin, and also happens to be Suman.

Suman hesitates. “Johnny… is he…”

Lenalee smiles at him. “Don’t worry, he’s fine.”

Suman, for a bird with a strikingly odd appearance, looks relieved.

Lenalee looks down at Daisa, running a hand down his spine. “Daisa, can I ask…?” She says, oddly hesitant.

Daisa dips his head, looking slightly bitter. “He never told me his name. He told me I ‘wasn’t on the list’ but that I was disrupting his job so he might as well kill me anyway. And then, he moved his hands…” Daisa swallows, his ears pinned back to his head with his iris's unnaturally large, but he still continues, “and it felt like something grabbed me. My limbs, my neck, my chest. And then…” Daisa’s pelt shudders, and he curls up into a ball on Lenalee’s lap.

She doesn’t ask him anything else.

* * *

“E-Emilia?” Timothy asks breathlessly.

Emilia’s ocean blue eyes focus on him and widen, her ears perking before her eyes narrow sternly in a way Timothy would find ominously familiar if he still wasn’t so happy to see her alive. Timothy darts towards her, ignoring Allen’s calls for him to wait. She was right here. His home, his family. He takes her in, practically drinking in the sight of her. He barely manages to skid to a stop in front of her. And a good thing too, because she stomps a hoof down right in front of his face, nostrils flaring at him angrily.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to…?

“Timothy, what are you  _ doing _ here?” She asks, her entire bearing stern and in full-on lecture mode.

...Oh yeah, she was.

“Don’t you know that if you see trouble that it’s better if you run  _ away _ from it?” She lectures, but Timothy can see from the tense lines of her body that it’s worry and not anger that’s driving this particular torture.

Timothy hisses, setting his rump on the ground and curling his tail around his paws. “And what’s so dangerous about this place anyway?” He asks sulkily.

“Yes, I would like to know that as well.” Allen steps up beside Timothy, and Timothy feels at once annoyed and grateful for his presence.

Emilia’s ears pin to the sides of her head, looking conflicted. “No, I can’t… I can’t tell you. Especially not you, an outsider.” She directs towards Allen.

Allen smiles. “Well that’s unfortunate. But don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.” He puts a hand to the soft blonde fur on her head, stroking it gently. Emilia leans into it for only a moment before she backs up a step and bends her neck so she’s at Timothy’s height. Timothy only bristles a little.

Emilia’s ocean blue eyes look down at him with amusement, her ears pricked. “Is this the part when I tell you that I missed you?” Emilia asks.

Timothy snorts. ”Well I sure didn’t miss you.” He lies.

Emilia lifts her head up in a pose Timothy can only call regal. “Good. You were always a brat and it was a pain dealing with you.” Despite this, Timothy can hear the unseen smile in her voice. Her eyes soften and she dips her head down. Timothy rises up to meet her, the tips of their noses touching, sending a warm affection through Timothy. He chirps in happiness, rubbing his head affectionately against her face.

If anyone’s listening, please let this never end.

* * *

Something tingles at the edge of Marie’s senses, and he pulls himself gently out of Miranda’s grip. “I think it’s best if we go,” he advises, directing his voice to all of the other animals nearby.

“G-go? B-but I j-just found you, Marie!” Miranda says tearfully.

“Why?” Lavi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Marie and the others are obviously here because of the Innocence. Maybe Marie wanted the others to leave so they could go be near the Innocence. If only they could follow them… 

“The Goddess is calling to us,” Marie says reluctantly. “It will not be long before whatever we do will be swayed by the Goddess’s will.” And he has to get away from Miranda before that happens.

Lavi frowns. Well that doesn’t sound good.

“Aw, man. I was really enjoying this.” Daisa complains, reluctant to get up out of the warm spot he and Lenalee’s body heat had generated. Yeah, so he’s lazy. Get used to it.

“Daisa…” Marie says sternly.

“Fine, fine. Quit nagging me already.” Daisa complains, eeling out of Lenalee’s lap and onto the snowy ground, looking back at his warm spot mournfully. Lenalee laughs at his expression, and Daisa growls half-heartedly, turning away.

“Do you really have to go?” Timothy asks, looking up at the doe.

Emilia dips her head. “Yes. I’m sorry, Timothy.”

“Well, he’s already an animal, why not come with us?” Daisa suggests.

“No, he can’t!”

“It’s too dangerous!”

Allen stops and looks at Emilia, not expecting her to agree with him. Why would she, when she has her family back? Once again Allen finds his eyes drawn to the edge of the forest, looking but not finding. He swallows around the lump in his throat, feeling all the more desperate to keep Timothy by his side. He meets Emilia’s eyes and they come to a silent agreement.

“Please don’t go, Timothy.” Allen says.

“It’s too dangerous. You have no idea what’s out there. You could be hurt, or worse!” Emilia scolds.

“Please, stay with me.” Allen says. “I’ll… I’ll do anything.” His voice breaks on the last word.

Timothy looks at him challengingly. “Even tell me the truth?  _ All _ of it?”

Allen can’t suppress a wince. “Yes. Even that.” He promises.

_ So long as you promise not to run away afterwards…  _

And then snarls and cries of alarm reach Allen’s ears as Emilia’s blue eyes turn an Innocence green. She rears, hooves kicking in the air straight towards Allen head. Allen ducks and rolls, snatching a frozen Timothy off of the ground and popping back up to his feet, retreating just as her hooves strike the snow just where Timothy had been.

“E-Emilia?” Timothy asks, sounding afraid.

“That’s not Emilia anymore,” Allen says gravely, drawing his golden dagger from its sheath. 

And that’s when more animals come flooding out of the forest.

* * *

Animals flood out of the forest whether big or small, large or wide. A moose with Innocence green eyes leaps over a herd of geese, swift foxes running ahead while a lynx prowls forward, green eyes slitted. Caribou pound their hooves into the turf, followed by grizzly bears and black bears, hordes of herons and bats swooping through the sky. 

Lenalee pulls Miranda forcibly away from Marie, her face savaged and dripping blood from the result of Marie’s fangs. Miranda looks up at Lenalee, body shaking. “He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean…”

Lenalee shoves Miranda behind the barrier made up of her, Lavi and the CROW. Worry goes through her. Where were the children? She kicks up into the air, but almost as soon as she’s airborne she’s assaulted from all sides. The birds and bats swarm around her, pecking and biting at any exposed skin they can find, screeching in her ears and clawing at her eyes. Their wings beat against her skin, enfolding her, entrapping her in an enclosure of living bodies. She tries to bat them away but when one leaves two more seem to take its place. She can barely see anything through the horde, flashes of earth and sky and snow, every flash of pain making tears fall from her eyes. She lets out a wild burst of wind, but the only way to go is down. So she does. She escapes through the opening, feeling sick and nauseated. She lands between Link and Lavi, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She takes a deep breath.

And then she stands and fights.

* * *

Allen slashes his way through the horde of animals with his dagger, wishing at once that he could use his Innocence or his Akuma form. Either one would tear through this horde easily. But it’s not like he could. Not with the Exorcists around. Though he knew that if things got too bad, he wouldn’t have a choice. Timothy yelps anxiously from his position stuffed inside Allen’s coat, claws digging into his shirt and penetrating flesh. 

A black bear twice the size of Allen roars furiously, large claws swinging towards his face. Allen ducks deftly under the paws and into the bear’s guard. His blade flashes through the air as he takes out its eye and slices off its ear in one brutal strike, and the bear falls back with a roar. Allen kicks some geese that had been pecking and biting at his ankles aside, running through the opening that this provides. He finally spots the Exorcists. It would be hard not to with the power they’re putting out. Snakes of fire consume the horde, huge gusts of wind blowing them back while some catch on fire nearby. But the animals seem at least partially immune to the effects of the Innocence made fire. Though oddly, the fires from Link and Tewaku seem to be pretty effective. 

The only obstacle between Allen and them is a huge shaggy bison with glowing Innocence green eyes. It snorts upon seeing them, lowering its head and charging. Allen stands his ground and goes for the eyes, blade slashing through the air. However his aim is off and his blade skitters against the bison’s horn, and the bison bowls him over and he quickly rolls out from under it to avoid being trampled. Allen coughs and stumbles over towards the Exorcists. Link quickly grabs him, looking them over with a concerned look, before placing him and Timothy behind him and the others as a sort of shield.

Allen blinks. Miranda is sitting there in the snow with a rather worried and downcast expression, drying blood on her face from what looks like a rather horrible bite wound on her cheek.

Allen tilts his head. “Are you alright, Miranda?”

Timothy begins wriggling his way out of Allen’s coat, butt wiggling in the air. “Hey, what about me?” Timothy complains, his head finally emerging from the bottom of Allen’s coat. “I was the one that got squashed under you when you rolled on top of me! I could have been-dear God, what happened to you?” Timothy asks, noticing Miranda for the first time.

“I-It w-wasn’t his fault,” Miranda says, looking away from them.

_ Oh, it’s like that. _ Allen thinks.

Timothy however, sits in Allen’s lap and looks at Miranda with his ears tilted slightly back. “Emilia tried to hurt me, too.” He offers. “If Allen hadn’t been there, she probably would’ve.”

Miranda smiles, but it’s a weak thing. “I-I just keep thinking, i-if I weren’t s-so  _ weak _ , then maybe I could h-have h-helped him.”

Allen doesn’t ask her why she thinks she’s weak. There isn’t time, really. “Then the only solution is to try to get stronger.” He says with a smile.

Timothy yelps then, hissing with a mixture of pain and anxiety. Allen looks at him with concern. “Timothy?”

“Allen, please… get away…  _ get away from me!” _ And then Timothy’s eyes flash an Innocence green.

Timothy’s body slumps bonelessly in his lap, and then there’s a flash of blue and green before everything goes dark.

* * *

When Link hears Miranda scream, he knows something has gone wrong. He glances over just in time to see a large white and gold draconian Akuma bearing down on Lenalee and Lavi. "Akuma, incoming!" Link yells, and Lenalee and Lavi only barely have enough time to jump to the side before the Akuma's paws land right where they were, tearing up the ground underneath it. The Akuma bares its teeth at them, tail lashing angrily as the horde parts before it like the red sea. 

Lavi looks up at the Akuma, hammer gripped tightly in his hands, and meets a pair of Innocence green eyes.

…what? 

His hesitation costs him. The Akuma slams him hard into the ground, leaving him choking and breathless, his hammer going flying out of his hands. The Level Two bares its teeth in a snarl, and then shakes its head while growling to itself, the green light dying from its eyes. Its sickeningly familiar dual colored eyes look down at Lavi before it lifts its paw off of him, Lavi sitting up and scrambling for his weapon. And that’s when Lenalee comes soaring in and kicks the Akuma hard in the side.

Al-the Akuma roars with pain, its eyes turning Innocence green once more. It catches onto Lenalee’s next pass towards it and snatches her up in its jaws, its fangs sinking into her upper thighs, making Lenalee scream in agony. The color of its eyes blinks in and out. Dual, green, dual, green. Lavi swings his hammer up and hits it right in the face before it can make a decision either way, forcing it to drop Lenalee. Lenalee kicks her legs to keep herself airborne but seems to be having some trouble staying aloft.

That can’t be good.

* * *

_ Attack. _

_ Defend. _

_ Attack. _

_ Defend. _

Timothy does this and more in the name of his Goddess. How can he not? His Goddess means everything to him. He loves her, so how can he not obey her?

Still, something nags at him, at the very back of his mind. There was someone else. Two someones. That love feels muted compared to the love he feels towards the Goddess, but somehow he can’t help but feel a sense of alarm. He’s not sure over what.

He bats aside the golden man that had been trying to entrap him with a spell, using his stealth to evade the humans and sneakily attack them once again. The Akuma he’s using has a really useful ability. It’s too bad that it’ll be purified by the time he leaves its body.

It’ll be… 

_ Allen _ will be… 

Purified once he leaves his body?

Sudden horror floods Timothy, and he stops in his tracks as he surveys the destruction around him. All of the animals save Timothy’s body have fled, the battle having become too violent for them to stay. The snowy turf has been ripped and torn underneath Allen’s claws, the campsite in shambles. Lavi is limping on his left ankle, and blood streams down Lenalee’s legs while Link holds his right arm at an awkward angle.

Despite this, they still look ready to fight him.

Pulling Allen’s stealth over himself like a well worn cloak, Timothy looks inward.

_ Allen, are you there? _

_ Allen? _

_ Allen! _

**...Timothy?** Came Allen’s voice, sounding tired and weak. Timothy finds him, finally. A grey blue light full of interlocking cogwheels of various shapes and sizes, spinning and clicking together in their own unique harmony. Allen’s soul, Timothy realizes, still strong even with Timothy in possession of his body.

_ …Allen? _ Timothy asks. He flies closer to Allen’s soul, reaching his hand out to touch it. Allen’s soul recoils, before accepting his touch.

**Hey Timothy,** Allen says, and Timothy can feel his smile, can sense the love and forgiveness in his heart.

Timothy swallows around the lump in his throat, blinking back tears.  _ I’m sorry, _ he chokes out. He doesn’t want to lose Allen. Doesn’t want to lose his friend.

**Don’t be. This wasn’t your fault, Timothy.** Timothy feels his reassuring smile.  **Besides, this isn’t the end.**

Then Allen grabs him with tendrils of light. Timothy feels an odd pull in his chest as a part of himself is removed and something else is slotted into place. He looks down and sees blue-grey light embedded in his chest, interlocking cogwheels ticking along inside him. Timothy looks at Allen to see just a bit of aqua blue stuck to his soul where the cogwheels had been.

**You can’t destroy what’s a part of yourself, Timothy.** Allen says, then with a mental nudge pushes Timothy out of his body.

Panic pulses through him.  _ Wai-! _

Timothy wakes up in his own body with a start. Miranda startles from where she’d been holding him for some reason, letting him down onto the ground. Timothy searches desperately for Allen and spots him in human form running towards him. “Timothy! Are you alright?” 

Timothy looks around at the Exorcist’s hostile stares, the way they bare their weapons around him.  _ They know. They know that I did this. That I hurt them. _ Guilt eats away at Timothy’s heart as he looks at Allen. 

_ I could have killed him. _

Timothy takes off and streaks into the forest.

“Timothy, wait!”

Timothy ignores him, guilt a heavy weight in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that was a thing.
> 
> Also, Suman's bird form is called a Puffin, and is, in fact, native to Canada. I made sure that all the animals shown here were, in fact. Just some trivia I thought I'd throw out there. I thought Suman being a bird who was called a "Puffin" was just too funny to miss out on. XD
> 
> Also, sorry about all the changes in POV. There was just literally no way to get everyone's feelings across in a timely manner without it and I apologize if it made the chapter's quality go down the drain. ^^;
> 
> Tell me your thoughts below!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy finds unexpected solace in the forest.
> 
> Allen is captured by the Exorcists, with mixed results, and nobody is happy with the outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to back chapters?! From _me?!_
> 
> Dear god, I must be dying or something.
> 
> To be serious, consider this an apology for the lack of updates. I'm about 2k into the next chapter, so I felt pretty secure in posting this.
> 
> Trigger warnings for vomiting, aftermath of emotional violation, and self-harm.
> 
> Enjoy. :D

**night seven • capture**

* * *

Allen stands with his back facing the precipice, his whole body aching with a kind of bone deep pain. The Exorcists surround him in a tight semi circle, blocking off his escape with weapons held at the ready. Lenalee's eyes are hard, her fists clenched. Akuma have fooled her before and this one has fooled her again. It's destruction will be no different than the last.

Miranda is biting her lip, obviously conflicted. She knew all Akuma were evil. It was everything the Order had taught her. But she wished, just once, that it wasn't true. Lavi's eye is cold and calculating as he assesses the situation before him, but inside, questions and doubts roam free. If Allen were an Akuma, why wait so long to attack? Their guards had been thoroughly down by the time Marie and the others arrived. He could have struck then. So why didn't he? And the Innocence green that had been in his eyes… 

Lavi was confused, and he wanted answers.

An inner conflict is going on inside Link as well. He had grown… fond of the two children in the time he had gotten to know them, concerned for them even. To now know that one of those children had been an Akuma all along feels like a betrayal, but when he looks into the Akuma's eyes he still can't help but see a frightened child there. But Link has a duty, and he will fulfill it.

Allen is more worried about Timothy than himself. He has no idea what dangers lurk in the forest, and he wants nothing more but to go racing after Timothy. And he would, Innocence controlled animals be damned, if not for these Exorcists keeping him here. And he really doesn’t want to hurt them any more than he already has, though he will if he has to. Though right now, his biggest problem is convincing them not to Exorcise him on the spot.

“Look, I really don’t want to have to fight you,” Allen pleads, the first words he’s said since Timothy left.

Lenalee’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with that before.”

Allen winces. “I’m sorry. I was… not myself.”

Lavi’s eyes sharpen. “What do you mean?”

Allen rubs the back of his head, looking up at all of them. Once again he wishes he weren’t so short. Or child sized, to be more accurate. “It’s kind of hard to explain.” He hedges. If he tells them Timothy has Innocence, they’d want to take Timothy back with them. If he tells them Timothy has the ability because he’s an Akuma, they’d just be hostile towards him as well. He could always tell them he was a sorcerer, but with Timothy not having the skills to back it up that would fall through pretty quickly.

But perhaps he doesn’t need to involve Timothy at all.

Allen tilts his head to the side. “Have you ever heard of modified Akuma?”

* * *

Timothy runs through the forest, not caring for any path that might guide his way. He pushes his way through the snow, his thick pelt sheltering him from the cold wind. The night time sky twinkles with stars, and the moon hangs high overhead. Pine trees dusted with frost loom over Timothy, but for some weird reason he feels comforted by their presence, not threatened.

Eventually Timothy comes to a halt, his sides heaving as he gasps for breath. It’s only then that he starts to shake. A visceral disgust goes through him, and he turns and vomits in the snow.

_ I could have killed him. I could have killed all of them. And all because I loved her… but I  _ ** _don’t_ ** _ love her…  _

Timothy shudders.

“Hey, you okay there?” A wolverine with black eyes asks, the markings under his eyes a weird purplish color.

“I’m fine!” Timothy snaps, bristling.

“Okay, okay, jeez.” The wolverine says, and something clicks in Timothy’s brain.

“You’re… David?”

“Daisa,” Daisa says, casually offended. “And you’re Timothy, right? Emilia’s told us about you.”

Timothy swallows. “Yeah, that’s me. 

Can you… take me to her?”

Daisa’s ears perk, his eyes brightening. “Sure thing! just follow me.”

Timothy huffs. “Fine.”  _ But this better not be a trick. _

As Timothy trails after Daisa, he leads him to a path of paw beaten snow. And as Daisa and Timothy tread down the path, Timothy can’t help but notice some very weird things the deeper they go into the woods. Large rocks with veins that glow like liquid rainbows along the path, covered in moss and lichen. Bright motes of light that float in the air, unmoved by the coarse winds. The snow scintillates like thousands of tiny stars, growing warm underfoot as they enter a clearing.

The clearing is filled with animals, some talking with their friends and some getting their wounds treated.  _ Serves them right. _ Timothy thinks.There are various sized houses scattered all throughout the clearing, one that could be big enough to fit a grizzly bear comfortably, and one that a grizzly bear could barely fit their head through. Timothy can hear animals talking or sleeping in them, or eating a late night meal. At the edge of the clearing is an oddly shaped rock. The rock has the sort of shape of several rocks stacked haphazardly on top of each other, sharp and jagged and glowing iridescently with all the colors of the rainbow. 

But all of this is shunted to the side in Timothy’s mind when he catches sight of a golden blonde doe with ocean blue eyes sitting alone at the edge of the clearing.

“Emilia!” Timothy breaks into a sprint as he runs towards her, hope and fear colliding in his chest, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against the inside of his ribcage.

Emilia turns to look at him and her eyes widen. Timothy skids to a stop in front of her, luckily out of hoof range. “Timothy, why did you come here?” Emilia scolds.

Timothy swallows hard. “T-to see you.” He utters quietly.

Emilia’s eyes soften. “Oh, Timothy.”

Emilia’s legs fold elegantly underneath her, and she lies on her stomach, nudging Timothy until he’s tucked against her side.

“Well I’m here now, and it’s way past time you went to sleep.” Emilia asserts.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Timothy asks, some unnamable fear taking hold of him.

“Of course. Now go to sleep, Timothy. Everything will look better tomorrow.”

And Timothy sleeps.

* * *

Lavi is sleepy. He’s so sleepy that he feels like he could fall asleep right here in the grass and snow and it would feel like the comfiest mattress on earth. But that’s not what’s important right now. Gramps had told him about modified Akuma of course, but they were exceedingly rare, and it’s not like they could hound Cross into making more.

And while a modified Akuma being easier to take control of than a regular Akuma doesn’t exactly make sense, Lavi can at least pretend like he believes it until he gets the real story out of him.

But the point is that there was a (mostly) benevolent Akuma standing right there in front of him that his comrades were about to slaughter, at least judging by the varying expressions of disbelief on their faces. 

Which Lavi can understand. If he’d heard those words out of an Akuma’s mouth, he’d never have believed them either. 

But maybe a human can do better.

“He’s telling the truth,” Lavi says, and everyone shoots him incredulous looks, even the Akuma.

“What do you mean, Lavi?” Lenalee asks, her eyes still locked on the Akuma.

“Gramps told me about modified Akuma way before he started talkin’ about it.” Lavi expands, and Link looks at him sharply.

“You’re sure?”

Lavi laughs, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “As sure as I possibly can be when it comes to Gramps.”

Link looks dissatisfied with this answer, which is pretty much what Lavi wanted out of the whole interaction anyway.

Lenalee’s eyes are narrow. “Well, even if he is ‘modified,’ we still can’t trust him.”

Lavi blinks. “So, what? We take him captive?”

Lenalee nods determinedly. “Good idea. Let’s move.”

_ That wasn’t a suggestion! _ Lavi thinks, as they all close in on the Akuma.

“I surrender.” The Akuma says, holding up his hands.

Everyone stumbles to a stop, glancing at each other with varying arrays of confusion and suspicion. 

“Why would you come with us so easily? Is this a trick?” Link asks, and Lavi wants to facepalm. You don’t just  _ ask _ an Akuma that. Doing that is just asking to get tricked and then murdered in the most grisly way possible.

The Akuma shrugs, crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels with a frown that gives him even more of a childlike appearance than he already has. “If you’re not letting me go, then I need to stay with you anyway. If Théo ever comes back then he’ll probably come back with your loved ones.”

“T-Théo…? B-but I-I t-thought h-his name w-was Timothy?” Miranda asks suddenly. To anyone else, the Akuma’s slight flinch must have been completely imperceptible, but Lavi’s sharp eyes catch it in an instant.

Timothy, Timothy. Where has he heard that name before? 

All of the pieces click into place, and Lavi asks, “Timothy of the Hearst Orphanage?”

Lenalee gasps, Miranda’s eyes widening. Link’s eyes are sharp as he observes.

The Akuma tilts his head innocently. “Who?”

* * *

Allen picks his way through the wreckage of the Exorcist’s camp, Lavi as his persistent shadow as he looks for anything salvageable. While stubbornly refusing to support or deny Lavi’s claims had been a good plan on the short term, he knew Lavi had put all the pieces together and it was only a matter of time before he or one of the other Exorcists contacted the Order with what they knew. Hopefully he and Timothy would be long gone by then. Allen genuinely liked these people, despite how they were treating him now putting a general pallor on that, and he didn’t want to do anything drastic unless he had to.

As he kicks his feet through the slush and snow, Allen’s shoe bangs on something solid buried underneath. Crouching down with Lavi beside him, they dust off the snow and uncover a first aid kit. “Great find, buddy!” Lavi says with a grin at him. He stands to shout at the other Exorcists, “You guys, we found a first aid kit!”

“Really?” Lenalee asks from somewhere, her voice filled with relief.

While Lavi’s distracted, Allen examines the first aid kit. He finds a crack in the casing, the bandages soaked with the antiseptic dented and leaking fluid.  _ They’ll never be able to use this. _ Glancing behind himself, Allen is relieved to see Lavi with his back to him. Taking a deep breath, he reaches for that bright humming energy, so different from the whispering void that is his stealth. He wraps his hands around the first aid kit and pushes the viridescent energy into it, his hands shifting and moving in front of him. He breathes out, and with that breath the water dissipates from the bandages, the dent in the antiseptic sealing over as the crack in the casing disappears as if it never was.

“Is the first aid kit ready, Al?” Lavi asks, and Allen stops for a moment, confused at the endearing nickname.

He just shrugs it off, however, saying, “Yes, it’s ready.”

He hands it over to Lavi who shoots him a wink and a smile, as if sharing a secret. He smiles back, but it’s lackluster at best. His hunger, which had been easy enough to ignore, now comes to the forefront of his mind with the use of yet another ability. He becomes hyper aware of the smell of human blood around him as the humans _ –Exorcists _ get treated for their wounds. His stomach feels like it’s eating itself alive and he carefully doesn't look at any human too closely as they pick through the rest of the campsite before deciding to find a new location to hunker down in.

They find a sloping hill that eventually levels out on top, with a thick treeline covering them in any direction. It didn't help much considering that their current enemy had superior vision and a sharp sense of smell, especially compared to humans. Allen had this as well, but it wasn’t really helping him in this case.

Allen and Lavi had been sent out in search of food, but so far they’d had no luck. Allen stalks through the forest on silent feet, Lavi making an unfortunate amount of noise behind him. Though he has to admit it’s not a lot compared to the average human. Allen freezes in place as he detects a small rapidly beating heartbeat up in the trees. 

_ Prey.  _

He becomes hyper aware of Lavi behind him, and he shifts, shaking off the predatory instincts. Drawing his dagger, he shoots it through the trees and is surprised to hear a human-like cry cut off abruptly. A small body falls out of the trees and onto the ground. He and Lavi share a glance, and then they walk towards it. They both crouch down and look at the body of a hawk, thoroughly dead by the liberal use of Allen’s dagger to its heart. 

Allen looks at it sadly, and then slowly reaches out and closes the dead hawk’s eyes, stroking its feathers gently. There’s nothing more he can do. The deed is done. Whoever they might have been and whoever their family could have been, they can’t see them now. Not unless they’re already dead.

Allen realizes that Lavi is watching him closely, and he turns away, shamefaced. Lavi must hate him now, surely. Whatever relationship they had been building must surely be gone. And that thought hurts more than the claws he’s currently digging into his palms, black blood dripping from the wounds and onto the pure white snow beneath his feet. Pain and pleasure mix together inside him, and he thinks this punishment will be worth it so long as Lavi is happy. 

“Hey, hey,” Lavi says, his voice oddly gentle. His hands hover over Allen’s smaller ones, hesitant to touch before eventually resting on the backs of his hands. “Quit that, will ya? That’s not going to make anything better.” Slowly he pries each of Allen’s fingers out of his palms, looking surprised by the claws. “I didn’t know Akuma could do partial transformations,” Lavi comments with surprise.

Allen coughs, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He removes his hands carefully from Lavi’s grasp and sheathes his claws, much to Lavi’s disappointment. Lavi gets to his feet, Allen settling more comfortably on the ground. He smiles hesitantly at Lavi, craning his head to look up into his face. “Most don’t,” he admits, “I was specially modified for it, however.”

Lavi smiles brightly. “By Cross, right?”

Allen blinks, surprised. “Yes. How did you know that?”

Lavi grins, glad his distraction is working. “I’m a Bookman, me ‘n Gramps. It means we record the hidden history of the world.” Lavi rubs the back of his head, looking away from him. "It also means that I'm a bit more neutral to the war than the rest are." He smiles brightly, stooping down to ruffle Allen's hair. Allen looks up at him, gravely offended. Lavi laughs. "So just come to me if you have a problem, alright?"

Allen huffs with a smile, getting to his feet while dusting snow off his pants. "Alright, fine." Lavi ties the hawk to his belt and they go on their way.

* * *

The moon is high overhead and everyone is sitting around the campfire that Link had started with a spell tag–and Allen can't believe he didn't recognize him as CROW–the smell of cooked flesh doing nothing for the hunger in Allen's stomach. Allen lets the human's chatter wash over him, waiting desperately for them all to go to sleep so he can fly away to hunt for an Akuma with none the wiser. 

“Hey Al, you hungry?” Lavi asks.

“No,” Allen says sharply. Spotting the bowl in Lavi’s hands held towards him, he corrects, “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Not for that, at least.

A hint of inquisitiveness enters Lavi’s eye. “I guess you couldn’t eat anything, could you.” It’s posed more as a question than a statement.

Allen frowns. “Well, I could… it just wouldn’t taste right.”

“Really?” Lenalee asks, interested. It’s the first thing she’s said to him that hasn’t been hostile since they first met.

Allen nods. “Human food tastes disgusting.” He says, making a face. “On top of that, I can’t digest it considering how my body works, so even if I did eat it I’d have to sick it up a few hours later.”

“And this is the same for all Akuma?” Link prods. Lavi’s surprised he doesn’t have his notepad out. 

Allen nods again. “Yes.” He looks down, tapping his fingers on his thighs restlessly. 

Lavi leans toward him, though this is made harder by his height. “Is something wrong, Al?”

Allen sighs, looking up at him with a tired smile. “I’m just worried about Théo.”

Lavi sighs, putting a hand on Allen’s shoulder. “I think we’re all worried about that in one way or another.”

* * *

Soon enough every human was piling into the one tent that they had salvaged. Luckily it was a good sized tent, so even packed like sardines everyone was still able to fit. Everyone except Allen, who was put outside with a guard on him. Which is fine with him. He doesn’t need to be packed in with a bunch of humans, especially not with his bloodlust growing stronger by the minute. 

Lavi sits beside him by the fire. If he has any qualms about being around a deadly Akuma at night, he doesn’t show it. They’re currently sitting in a mostly comfortable silence, Allen tapping his ( **claws** ) fingers restlessly on his thighs, his core pulsing with ( **hunger** ) nervousness. “So you got possessed by Timothy, right?” Lavi asks, and Allen startles, before he smooths out his expression into one of polite confusion.

“Possessed? What do you mean?” He asks, tilting his head with an innocent look on his face.

Lavi laughs. “You see, that’s what didn’t make sense at first. Being a modified Akuma wasn’t enough to be possessed by the Goddess. But if Timothy was then… that would do it, wouldn’t it?” He says.

Allen wants to ( **rip his throat out** ) stop him from coming to these conclusions. “Who’s Timothy?” He asks tightly, swallowing down the need to ( **EAT** ) glare at him.

Lavi sighs. “C’mon Allen, Timothy is Théo-”

( **EATEATEAT** )

( **HUNGER** )

( **PROTECT** )

** _“Leave him alone!”_ ** Allen roars. He pounces on the human, snarling with his claws pinning the human to the snowy ground. Feathered wings sprout from his back as a serpentine tail grows out from his tailbone, his ears lengthening and his nose and jaw stretching to form a serpentine muzzle, fur and scales spreading across his skin. His back legs shift and change, becoming more bowed, a third leg sprouting from both sides of his abdomen as he shifts onto all six legs. This half form should be plenty enough to get the job done.

Allen’s eye looks greedily at the human soul he’s about to devour. It’s a vibrant red, with the look of a glow so bright it could be its own miniature sun if it weren’t trapped inside a cylindrical glass case. There are colors of light purple, cobalt, and forest green inside it, and Allen stops to take a look at the bonds, because they are rather pretty.

Bonds… 

This human… would be missed when he died.

The hunger and the protective anger inside him urge him on, but he can’t help but stop and look at the human’s face.

The fear on the human’s–on  _ Lavi’s _ face chills Allen to the core and has him stumbling back, wrapping two arms around his stomach and shaking. Lavi sits up slowly, eyeing him warily as one a feral animal might.

“I-I’m sorry,” Allen says, and he can’t help the tears that fall from his eyes. “I need to go, before I hurt you or anyone else.”

Lavi smiles, though there’s still some fear in his eyes. “So I guess you were lying when you said you weren’t hungry.” Lavi rubs the back of his head, laughing awkwardly, though Allen can tell he’s not really feeling it.

Allen swallows with a nod, looking away. “Yeah.”

Everyone in the tent seems to be awake, but judging by the struggling going on inside it looks like being packed so closely is a detriment to getting out of the tent in a quick and efficient way. 

Lavi looks pained. “So who are you going to…?” He doesn’t finish the sentence, letting it and all its possibilities hang unsaid.

“An Akuma would be good,” Allen says, just as all of the humans burst out of the tent, weapons at the ready.

Allen fully transforms before they can even think of attacking him, taking to the air and winging off into the sky, hoping against hope that they decide not to follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allen is a hungry boi, and you get to see the more instinctual side of an Akuma. I honestly wasn't sure how to write it at first, but I think I did an okay job. 
> 
> Also, Lavi and Allen bonding. *squee*
> 
> And I have to apologize for all the head hopping in this chapter. I was experimenting with it to see if it would work with my style, but as you can see I'm total crap at it and since I've developed my own style of writing over the years it just doesn't seem to fit. I won't happen again and I'm sorry if the quality of the chapter went down the drain because of it... again. *wince*
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if I've said this before, but the sounds Timothy is making are real sounds that a river otter, (native to Canada) would make.
> 
> Comments? 
> 
> Kudos?
> 
> See y'all next chap!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know this is the late 1800s so they only have markets and mercantiles that don't hold much other than the necessities in the ways of buying goods_–but_ Hoshino was also pretty open to the use of creative license when it came to the dgm world, so a little creative license where there's already a bunch in-world isn't gonna hurt. Right? Right.
> 
> Also, Timothy _might_ have thought about framing Kanda for another Phantom Thief G escapade, but he decided that he was too injured and took him to the hospital instead.
> 
> Timothy: Yes. Yes I did. *smirks* *sighs long sufferingly* But he was injured, so I had to take him to the hospital, even if he is a huge jerk.
> 
> Author: *whispers* That's Timothy's opinion, not mine.
> 
> Timothy: *scowls* Hey, don't throw me under the bus!
> 
> Author: There are no buses in the 19th century, Timothy.
> 
> Timothy: *crosses his arms with a huff* Hey, you're the one writing me! So it's your fault, not mine!
> 
> Author: Timothy, did I tell you you could break the fourth wall?
> 
> Timothy: Again, your words, not mine.
> 
> Author: ... 
> 
> Well, see y'all next chap!
> 
> Timothy: Hey, I wasn't done talking-!
> 
> _*click*_


End file.
